


I'll Be

by sourwolfing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, Stanny - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourwolfing/pseuds/sourwolfing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something wrong with Danny. He's tired, stressed, moodier than usual, but no one seems to notice. Everyone just leaves him be - everyone except Stiles. Stubborn as always, Stiles refuses to give up until he finds out just what exactly has gotten under Danny's skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

The bell rang - harsh and loud, cutting through the silence. Danny winced and looked up from the test, tossing his pencil down onto his desk. It wasn't even 10 a.m. and already his head felt as though it were about to explode. He hadn't slept much the night before and woke up with a splitting headache, and the added stress of a test hadn't done him much good. Calculus was going to be the death of him. At least, it would if he couldn't get a good night's sleep.

He could hardly hear his calculus teacher droning on about the test as they filed out of the room - something about how he hoped they’d studied because he didn't want to be disappointed in their performance. Again. He could hear the words but they meant nothing to him. They were hardly processed and were forgotten almost as soon as he had heard them. And that was the end of that.

Danny moved through the hallway on auto-pilot, much like he had been doing all day. Bobbing and weaving through the crowd, he kept his head down and his face expressionless, eyes glazing over with sleep and disinterest. He was tired and in pain and so wrapped up in his own little world that the sound of the second bell nearly made him jump out of his skin. Heart still racing, he glanced around. He was sure he looked as disoriented as he felt, but it quickly started to sink in - he was in chemistry. He had no idea how he'd gotten there, but there he was.

“I’m sorry, are you lost Mr. Mahealani?” Looking to his right, Danny was not surprised to find a very unamused Mr. Harris staring back at him. There were a few snickers as he raised an eyebrow, awaiting some sort of an answer from the teenager. Not that he really wanted one. The less time he had to spend conversing with his students the better. Or, at least, that was the way it seemed to come across.

Without saying a word, Danny made his way to his seat and sat down. The class moved on, turning their attention towards anything but Mr. Harris’ lecture and Danny was glad. He hated being the center of attention, always had. There was a reason why he was so content being Jackson's best friend. He had always been fine playing second banana to Beacon Hills' golden boy. Always the faithful sidekick, the dutiful best friend, he didn't mind always sitting on the back burner. He liked being left alone.

“Hey.”

At first, Danny thought he was just imagining things. This was chemistry, no one talked in chemistry - not unless you wanted to voluntarily subject yourself to public humiliation at the hands of Mr. Harris. But then the voice came again, this time a little louder.

“Hey!”

It was undoubtedly Stiles’ voice. There was no mistaking it. _Just ignore it, Danny. Ignore it. Ignore it…_

“Hey… Danny. Danny!”

God, he was a stubborn son of a bitch. Danny rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. If there was anyone who knew exactly what buttons to push to get under his skin - even without realizing - it was Stiles.

“What Stiles?” he knew he sounded annoyed - probably more annoyed than he actually was, but he didn’t care. Maybe Stiles would actually get the hint for once and just leave him alone. Apparently today was not that day.

“Are you okay?”

Danny paused, fighting the urge to turn around, “What?”

“Are you okay? I mean, up there, you looked like you just woke up on an alien planet or something.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” And then there was silence. Glorious silence.

Even without turning around, Danny knew that Stiles was leaning back in his seat, slouching with an unsatisfied look on his face. He was probably biting down on his tongue, or sucking on his lip, or even chewing on his pen to keep himself from saying anything else. The silence lasted for about a minute. It was probably a new record.

“You know, uh… if you want to talk, we could-“

“Mr. Stilinski -” Mr. Harris cut him off, his tone harsh - as always, when he was addressing Stiles, “Care to share what seems to be so interesting with the rest of the class?”

He could feel Stiles pouting. Just the thought was almost enough to make him smile. Almost. Danny tried his hardest to pay attention for the remainder of the class, but it just wasn't happening. His mind was elsewhere, too tired from the lack of sleep and too preoccupied with everything else that was going on to even care. He'd just get the notes from someone later. Usually he was a pretty good student, the one always trying to help others when they needed it - there had to be someone who'd be willing to return the favor. It wasn't like this was going to become a regular thing. He hoped it wouldn't, anyways; if he didn't start sleeping soon, it just might.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny is trying his hardest just to make it through the day, but Stiles isn't making it easy.

Danny thought the day would never end. His classes seemed to drag on forever, each minute longer than the last. Stiles had tried to talk to him several times after their conversation - if it could even be called that - in chemistry, but Danny had managed to clumsily avoid him every time. It really was a wonder how Stiles was the only one who had called him out on his strange behavior.

He could barely pay attention in class, was tripping over his words, and had even managed to fall asleep during lunch - almost face planting into his meatloaf which would have been hilarious, as Jackson so kindly put it. But it was finally his last period of the day, a free period, and he found himself alone at a table in the back of the library. There were books and notebooks scattered across the table (because maybe if he looked busy, people would leave him alone) but just the thought of actually doing something with any of it was enough to make his head spin.

Letting his head rest against the table, he folded his arms in front of him to block out some of the light. He was just about to close his eyes when he heard the shuffle of clothes an the legs of a chair dragging along the carpet, followed soon after by a backpack hitting the floor. Maybe it was nothing; maybe whoever it was just couldn't find anyplace else to sit.

"Danny."

He grunted in response, not lifting his head. If he didn't look up he could still pretend that it was someone else - someone significantly less obnoxious who could take a hint and would leave him alone.

"Danny?" the voice was softer now, cautious; maybe they would think he was asleep and just leave, "Danny!"

Stubborn son of a bitch...

"What Stiles?" his voice was muffled, face still buried in his arms.

"Were you sleeping?"

"I was trying to," Danny lifted his head, trying to sound frustrated, but couldn't fight back the yawn as he spoke.

"Oh... sorry."

Danny put his head down again, and Stiles was quiet. Well, quiet was the wrong word; there was nothing quiet about Stiles. Every now and then he would shift in the chair, tapping his foot against the leg of the table or drum his fingers on his notebook. No, he was everything but quiet, but at least he wasn't talking. It wasn't until Stiles cleared his throat for the umpteenth time that Danny's head shot up, throwing his arms up in the air in defeat.

"Are you going to go away and let me sleep or are you going to spit it out and tell me what you want?"

Stiles looked surprised, because really - _Danny_ initiating conversation with _him_? It didn't happen often. Actually, no, it had probably never happened before. Not since they were kids, at least. There were reasons why Danny always did his best to avoid interacting with Stiles, and he had gotten pretty good at avoiding him over the years. But then there were times like this, times when he knew that actually talking to the hyperactive brunette was the only way to get him to go away.

"I just want to talk."

"And I want to sleep, so seriously - cut the bullshit."

"Are you okay?"

Danny rolled his eyes, more than a little frustrated with where this was going, "I already answered that question, Stiles. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

That one caught Danny a little off guard. He always took pride in his looks - not in a superficial way like Jackson, but in a way that he knew he always looked put together. If there was one thing Danny hated, it was looking like a slob. Appearances weren't everything, but he knew that the whole 'just rolled out of bed' look wouldn't get him very far in life. He knew he must look like absolute crap.

"Maybe because every time I try to go to sleep, something interrupts me."

Stiles looked a little hurt, even stayed quiet for a few moments, "Fine."

Danny watched as he walked away and he felt a little bad for feeling so relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still trying to get a feel for everything, but I have the next few chapters written up already and they will probably be up shortly. This is probably going to be a very rare occurrence; I don't usually have this much free time. I know it's not very long, most of my chapters aren't. I'm not going to extend a scene just to up the word count; my goal is to keep the plot moving forward without any unnecessary fluff added in. Any comments/constructive criticism would be much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner conversation goes south, and the reason behind Danny's anxieties is revealed.

"Danny, are you feeling okay? You've barely said a word all night."

"I'm fine mom, just a little tired."

He looked up just long enough to see that his mother wasn't buying it. Staring down at his food, he pushed it around with his fork, taking a few bites here and there. He forced it down, not wanting his mother to think it was her cooking that was putting him off. If anything, his mother's homemade fajitas should have cheered him up. She left it be, though, not bringing it up again or pushing further; she was good like that. Instead, she chose to chat idly about her day, pausing every now and then to ask if the food was okay.

"Oh, and someone called for you mijo, while you were napping, "he lifted his gaze, only slightly curious; it was probably just Lydia trying to get a hold of Jackson, "It was um, what's his name... Stilinski."

"Stiles?" the tone in his voice - even he wasn't quite sure what it was. Annoyance? Indifference? Hopefulness? Maybe a little of all three? It was enough to make his mother pause, looking him over questioningly, trying to read his face and finding nothing.

"No, mijo, the sheriff. He wanted to know if you wanted to go to lunch on Saturday, but I told him your dad is going to be in town, so he's going to pick you up early from school tomorrow... Are you sure you're okay?"

Danny's heart had dropped into his stomach and he felt as though he was going to be sick. As soon as the words hit his ears... It just made it all the more real. It wasn't a bad dream - no, it was real and it was happening and there wasn't much he could do to stop it.

"Do you... Do you not want the sheriff to take you to lunch?" his mother asked, cautiously, though he was sure they both knew the answer to that question.

He shook his head; the sheriff wasn't his problem, "No mom, it's fine. It's been a while."

It really had been a while since he'd talked to the sheriff last. With all of the crazy, weird things that had been going on in Beacon Hills over the past few months, he could understand why it had been so long since they'd gotten together. The poor guy hardly had enough time to spend with his own son, let alone someone else's. But Danny liked spending time with the sheriff, so hearing he had called should have made him happy. It was something to look forward to, and he was - he was definitely looking forward to it - but something else was getting in the way.

"This is about your father, isn't it?"

He could feel the color draining from his face and he excused himself from the table. Without dumping the remainder of his dinner into the garbage, he just dropped his plate into the sink and hurried out of the room before his mother could protest. Running upstairs, he shut and locked his bedroom door behind him. It wasn't much of a barricade. It was an old house, and it was falling apart; anyone could open that door if they really wanted to, and it wouldn't take much effort at all. But his mother didn't know that and Danny thanked god for small miracles.

"Danny... Danny, baby, open the door," she called gently, fingers tapping lightly against the wood frame, "We need to talk about this."

"I have to sleep mom," he called out, burying himself in his covers, "I have a test in the morning."

It was a quick and easy lie, nothing but an excuse to get her to go away, but it was probably true. There probably was a test in at least one of his classes the next day. He really couldn't know for sure; it wasn't like he'd been paying attention at all that day.

"Danny, please," his mother pleaded. He felt bad, shutting her out like this (literally) but he just really didn't want to talk about it.

"Mom, I have to sleep. I don't want to talk about this. Please."

There was a long pause on the other side of the door, and he could just picture her standing there, pinching the bridge of her nose as she shook her head, mumbling in Spanish under her breath. But then came the heavy sigh and he knew she wasn't ready to give up just yet, "You can't do this every time your mother comes to visit, mijo."

"I said I don't want to talk about it. Can I go to sleep now, please?"

"You used to tell me everything, Danny. What ever happened to that? What happened to my baby? Where did my sweet boy go?"

Danny frowned, rolling over onto his sight, hating the fact that she was right; he used to tell her everything. He wasn't sure when all that had stopped. It just... had.

"He grew up, mom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a lot of head canons when it comes to Danny, and one of them is that his mother is Hispanic and his father is Hawaiian. And I know that Stiles hasn't really had a huge part thus far. I felt like Danny deserved to be the main focus; he's a really interesting character and doesn't get as much screen time as he deserves. But I feel like that ambiguity is what led to so many of my head canons, which I'm very excited to be able to write about and incorporate into the story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch with the sheriff gets a little awkward, but Danny learns something interesting about Stiles - something he never would have guessed.

The morning passed almost without incident. There had been a test in his English class, but it was an essay so it was easy enough to bullshit his way through - at least, enough to not fail. He was tired, but not as tired as the day before, and his mood definitely improved some when twelve-thirty rolled around and he got called to the office for dismissal. Everyone in the office seemed a little confused as to why Danny was being picked up by the sheriff (especially after he assured them for what was probably the third or fourth time that Danny was not in any trouble) but no one really argued. 

They were quiet as they walked out to the squad car, parked rather precariously in front of the building in plain sight. Danny could feel eyes on him and he knew that a dozen different rumors would be floating around by the end of the day. He was almost tempted to get into the back of the car just to add fuel to the flame. Almost. Much like the walk from the building, the car ride was relatively quiet, save for a brief debate on where they should go for lunch. In the end, they opted for a little mom and pop diner downtown. It had been the sheriff's suggestion because, as Stiles had so eloquently put it once, they had the best damn fries in town.

It wasn't until they were comfortably seated in a corner booth, drowned out by the idle chatter of the lunch crowd that the two really got to talking.

"So, how've you been?" it was a segway question and Danny knew it, "Haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm alright," he said with a shrug, leaning back into the seat cushion.

"Staying out of trouble?"

Danny smiled, knowing exactly what it was the man was referring to; it had become somewhat of a private joke between them, "Yeah."

"I missed the last game. Stiles said you played well, always do."

He tried hard not to wince at the mention of Stiles; it wasn't a secret that the two of them weren't friends, but he always tired to hide his annoyance towards him whenever he was with Sheriff Stilinski. It was a respect thing. He liked the man too much to even consider offending him by showing disdain towards his son. Usually it was easy. All he had to do was keep a straight face and focus on something else whenever Stiles came up in a conversation. It happened fairly often. They had yet to have a conversation where Stiles hadn't come up in some way, shape or form. Not that it was all that surprising; he was the man's son, after all.

"He said you weren't feeling well yesterday, left practice early."

The sheriff was fishing now, and Danny knew better than to assume this was just a harmless, idle little conversation, "I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, couldn't focus. Coach sent me home."

It was hard for him to wrap his head around the fact that Stiles and the sheriff had talked about him, probably even had an entire conversation centered around how strange he'd been acting lately. They'd probably talked about him a lot over the years, something that didn't really sit well with Danny. He could understand the sheriff bringing him up, talking about him a little bit here and there, but he'd never really thought that Stiles would actually participate in the discussions. Danny at least had some sort of connection to the sheriff; the only thing he and Stiles shared was lacrosse. 

"Stay up to late, or something?"

"No, just couldn't sleep is all."

"Right," he nodded, that 'I don't believe you but you're not in interrogation so I won't push it' look on his face; Danny only called it that because he'd actually said that to him once, "Your mom said your father's coming to town tomorrow morning."

And there it was, he'd been waiting for that bomb to drop, "Yeah."

"Try not to look so excited."

Danny stared down at the table. They'd talked about his dad a few times, but never in much detail - just when he was coming into town, how long he was staying, what they planned on doing. It was one of those things they had an unspoken agreement never to touch upon. The sheriff didn't push about his dad, and Danny didn't ask about his wife. They just didn't do it. But Danny had a feeling he wasn't going to be able to weasel his way out of this one. Not easily.

"Why don't you want to see your father? You never talk about him, so I really don't know all that much about him. There has to be a reason."

"We're just not close," Danny spat out a little too quickly.

"It's more than that."

"How do you know that there's more? You don't know anything about us; we're just not close, that's it."

"I know because you get this look on your face like you're going to throw up whenever someone so much as mentions him."

"Maybe it's just a coincidence."

"And maybe that's a load of crap."

Danny pursed his lips, refusing to meet the sheriff's eye, "We just aren't close, okay? I see him once a month, if that. Half the time he doesn't even bother to show up. That's it. There's nothing else to it."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"There's nothing else?"

"No, nothing else."

"You've always been a bad liar, Danny."

They were silent for a while, both more than okay with letting the conversation just... go away. The waitress came over with their food, and they started to eat without a word. Or, well, the sheriff ate; Danny picked. He'd lost his appetite. Again.

"Stiles was worried you know," the sheriff piped up, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"He was worried about you, said you weren't acting like yourself. What he was saying, it made me a little worried myself. It's why I called, cleared my schedule."

Danny nodded, figuring as much. It really wasn't all that surprising that Stiles had opened his big mouth. The kid never stopped talking at school, he figured home was no different. He was probably worse.

"I'm going to tell him you're alright, if that's okay with you. I won't tell him about your dad or anything like that, but I would like to tell him not to worry. He needs to stop worrying, all he ever does is worry."

"What do you mean?"

Were they thinking about the same Stiles Stilinski? The kid who was always cracking jokes at the most inappropriate times, who couldn't sit still to save his life, and never took anything seriously?

"He worries. A lot. About me, about Scott, Lydia, Allison, and then there's that kid, Isaac, too. And now he's worried about you. His... energy, it's always something he's had, something we've just had to deal with. But lately it's gotten worse. He's just been so jittery and on edge. Something's gotten him really worked up, and with his anxiety..."

Anxiety? Danny was confused. Very confused. Probably because he'd never really let himself look at Stiles as anything more than a nuisance, a thorn in his side he couldn't pull out. He had his reasons, though. It was so much easier to make it through the day, to keep from latching onto or lashing out at Stiles. Danny held him at a distance for a reason, but now, well - now he kind of felt like an ass.

"I just don't want the panic attacks to start again."

He felt like he shouldn't have been hearing any of this, that it wasn't information Stiles would want passed around to just anyone. They weren't friends; Stiles would certainly never tell him these things himself. But the sheriff trusted him, trusted him to keep this between the two of them, and Danny wished he hadn't said anything at all.

"If something was happening to my son - at school, at practice, or wherever - if something wasn't right, would you tell me?"

The question seemed to come out of left field, and Danny wasn't sure how to respond; he was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, "Sir..."

"Sorry... I'm sorry," Sheriff Stilinski sighed, rubbing his forehead, "I care about you, Danny and I try really hard to keep this whole awkward lack-of-relationship you have with my son out of all of this, but... he's my son. I love him."

"I know."

Silence. They were both quiet for a really long time until the waitress came over and the sheriff asked her to wrap both of their meals. He would no doubt finish off the rest of his at work later that evening. Danny would probably just end up offering his up to his mother when she came home from work; he didn't see himself getting his appetite back anytime soon. After paying the check, the sheriff drove him back to the school so Danny could pick up his car, and he offered to call Coach FInstock to get him out of practice that afternoon. Danny gratefully took him up on it, knowing he was going to need all the sleep he could possibly get if he wanted to make it through the next day.

"Nothing's going on," he said softly as he opened the car door.

"I'm sorry?"

"With Stiles. There's nothing going on, not that I've seen. I'm not really the best person to be asking."

The sheriff nodded, staring straight ahead, and said nothing. Danny bit down on his lip and gave a slight nod, getting out of the car and thanking him once again before shutting the door. He watched as he drove away, turning and heading towards his own car once the sheriff's was out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love, love, love the thought of Danny and Sheriff Stilinski having a close relationship. It's something I know will definitely play into the plot in later chapters, because I am really looking forward to writing more scenes involving just Danny and the sheriff.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Saturday morning and Danny's father is on his way - but an unexpected visitor just might turn things around.

"Mijo, wake up, your father just called. He's on his way."

Danny had fallen asleep on the couch almost as soon as he'd gotten home the day before. He'd woken up briefly when his mother had come home, but he was sound asleep once again soon after. It was the first time in days he'd slept through the night and he felt alert and refreshed, but then it hit him - it was Saturday and his father was coming, and suddenly he felt sick to his stomach.

With a groan, he rolled over and buried his face into the pillow. Maybe if he just let it all out and threw up he wouldn't have to go.

"Danny, let's go - get up. He's going to be here any minute. Help me set the table for breakfast."

He would never understand why his mother went out of her way to prepare crazy meals and use her best china, and wore a little too much makeup whenever his father came into town. They'd gotten divorced for a reason, could hardly handle being in the same room for more than a few minutes, if that. Maybe she just wanted him to think that she was happy and taking advantage of being single. Like it mattered that he knew, like she wanted him to care. It just didn't make sense to Danny.

Still in the same clothes he'd worn the day before, he made no attempt to straighten himself out or fix his hair because - unlike his mother - he didn't give a damn. His father wasn't worth the effort. Never had been, never would be. It was sad that he thought that way, but he really couldn't help it; he just didn't get why he should care enough to bother. It wasn't like his father would notice anyways. Opening up the cabinet, he started pulling out the cheapest, most worn out glasses he could find, trying a little too hard to prove a point.

"No, no mijo - the good ones, no the ones to your right."

"Mom, do we really have to -"

The doorbell rang and his mother waved him away and Danny set off down the hall, muttering under his breath. For a moment he considered just going up to his room and locking the door. But if anyone would be the first to break down the door, it was his father. There really was no getting out of this. Pulling open the door, he readied himself for the worst, trying to keep himself from losing control and throwing up on the spot. Needless to say, he was more than a little surprised to see that it was not his father waiting for him on the other side.

"Stiles?"

The brunette shuffled nervously, hands stuck in the front pockets of his jeans. He looked uncomfortable, like he didn't want to be there and Danny really couldn't blame him - but he had that ridiculous, goofy grin on his face because he was trying. He was trying to be civil and friendly and probably had a good reason for why he was there. As much as Danny didn't want to see his father - and as relieved as he was not to have opened the door to see his father's face - he wasn't sure if this was any better.

"What are you doing here?"

"My dad said you needed chem notes."

Well, that explained the backpack which, for some reason, Danny hadn't noticed earlier, "What?"

"You missed chem yesterday. He said you told him you needed to get the notes from someone."

"Oh... right," he said with a nod, knowing that he and the sheriff hadn't discussed that at all, but rolling with it anyways.

Apparently the sheriff _had_ talked to Stiles about their lunch conversation. Sort of. From the looks of things, he probably twisted more than a little of what they had actually talked about. Danny knew he would just have to play along. He didn't want Stiles picking up on the fact that his father had flat out lied to him, and he really didn't want to have to come clean and tell him what he and the sheriff had really talked about either. Besides, he probably could use the notes...

"So I'll just... let you have my notebook, I guess. You can give it back on Monday," he pulled the backpack off of his shoulder, opening it up and fishing around inside, "I don't take the best notes, but I'm sure you probably already knew that."

Danny couldn't help but smile and was about to respond when his mother came hurrying down the hall. She was no doubt wondering what was taking so long, assuming the worst - that Danny had actually fled up to his room. Sometimes it worried him how well his mother seemed to know him. She looked pleasantly surprised to see Stiles standing on their doorstep and she smiled brightly. It wasn't often that people from school came around, and when they did it was usually just Jackson and occasionally Lydia; Danny preferred hanging out at other people's houses. Anything he could do to avoid people staring at family photos, asking all of those awkward questions he hated answering.

"Stiles! So nice to see you! Did Danny invite you? You're just in time for breakfast!"

She all but pulled him inside before either boy could protest, grabbing his face in her hands and kissing him on both cheeks. Danny rubbed the back of his head, refusing to life his gaze from the floor. It was already going to be awkward enough having to sit down and have breakfast with his dad, but now Stiles, too? If anything, it would definitely be... interesting. But interesting didn't always necessarily mean something good.

"Michael is going to be so excited to meet one of Danny's friends!" she rambled on, "He just loves sports so he'll adore listening to all of your lacrosse stories."

"Michael?" Stiles looked to Danny, searching for some sort of answer. His mother looked back and forth between the two, not understanding the confusion.

"Michael, Danny's father - he's coming to visit... Didn't Danny tell you?"

Stiles didn't skip a beat, "Oh, right! Yeah, he told me. Didn't know his name was Michael."

Stiles was quick with his tongue and smart with his lies - with the sheriff as his father, he probably had to be. Smiling brightly, his mother hurried off to the kitchen, Stiles in tow, talking excitedly as they went. He shot Danny a look over his shoulder, but all he could do was shrug. Honestly, he was just as confused and surprised by the situation as Stiles was. No doubt this was the sheriff's doing; Danny wouldn't put it past him to have planned this whole thing - feed Stiles some excuse to get him to show up at Danny's house where he'd somehow get sucked into staying for breakfast in an attempt to make it slightly more tolerable.

Back in the kitchen, Stiles helped him set the table while his mother babbled on about how nice it was to see a fresh face. Because as much as she loved Jackson like a son, she wished Danny would bring more of his friends around. The doorbell rang, cutting her off, and Danny relaxed a little when she hurried off to answer the door.

"What the hell is going on?" Stiles asked, trying to keep his voice low and quiet, but Danny could hear the slight panic in his tone, "No offense but I have no desire to have a nice family breakfast and get to know your dad over a cup of coffee and toast."

"That makes two of us," he muttered under his breath, turning away from Stiles and moving to the stove.

"What?"

Ignoring the fact that Stiles eyes were burning holes into the back of his head, he shut off the oven and grabbed an oven mitt to pull out the tray of bacon. He tried to busy himself by finishing up what little was left to do with the food, not once looking over at Stiles. No, he was just going to pretend like he hadn't heard the question. He was just going to pretend like everything was fine and that the sound of his father's footsteps coming down the hall didn't make him feel sick to his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I want this breakfast to end, which is why I ended the chapter where I did. I don't want Danny and Stiles to have this insta-friendship where everything is suddenly kittens and rainbows and they live happily ever after. So we'll see where it goes. I have a few different ideas floating around in my head, but I can promise you that it won't be your typical happy family sitting down to breakfast.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast with Danny's father goes exactly how he knew it would - like a train running off the tracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** There are instances of homophobia and emotional abuse in this chapter. ** So this is somewhat of a repost. Only half of chapter six was posted, so this is a rewrite. Just the second half, because that was lost entirely. I was dumb and didn't save it anywhere so I had to try and remember what I wrote and rewrite it. It's not very close to what I'd originally written, but I kind of like the way this one ends a little better. Also, I have chapters 7-9 already written up. They just need to get typed up and edited and then they'll be good to go - so you'll be seeing them very soon.

He could hear his father walking towards him, the heaviness - the purposefulness - in his stride; he always walked with confidence, took every step with meaning. It was intimidating as hell. His eyes were on him, Danny could feel it. They were cold, judging; they made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The man hadn't said a word and already Danny couldn't take any more. It was hard enough dealing with him when it was just the two of them, but having Stiles there just seemed to make it all worse. There was no hiding it now, no more pretending like the Mahealani's were just one big happy family. No more pretending that his family life didn't bother him as much as it did, that his father was incapable of crawling under his skin and ripping him apart. He was going to see everything and Danny almost wished he could just tell him to leave; it would have been for the best. He didn't need to see this.

"Aren't you going to say hello?"

The voice was coarse, deep - almost angry - and Danny could tell right away that this was going to be a very long morning. Turning around to face his father he didn't even bother to force a smile. He wasn't happy to see him and he wasn't going to pretend like he was. For a brief moment, he caught a glimpse of his mother standing in the doorway, already looking rather nervous. It was like she could feel it too. This wasn't going to end well.

"Hi," he said flatly, meeting his father's eye for only a moment before looking away, turning to bring some of the food over to the table.

Danny didn't have to look to know that his father's face was growing red, scrunching up the way it always did when he was angry; he was always angry. There wasn't a single memory locked away inside his head of a time when his father was happy, smiling, proud. Maybe when he was a child, too young to remember - maybe those were happier times. A time before it became so clear the Danny wasn't like all the other boys his age and that he never would be. Maybe that was when his father stopped smiling, maybe it was the shame.

"We haven't seen each other in four months and that's all you have to say?" he was trying hard to keep himself under control, Danny would give him that - but it was't good enough.

"And whose fault is that?"

It was ballsy, and definitely very risky. And then Danny met his father's gaze, challenging him. He wasn't a kid anymore. They were the same height now, very close in size - and if it came down to it, Danny could hold his own in a fight, if not come out on top. He'd gotten a lot braver over the years. As terrified as he was of his father, he had grown considerably more combative as he grew older and his father was definitely noticing. They were no longer one-sided verbal matches. Danny no longer went down without a fight.

"Wow, I'm starving - who else is hungry?"

Both Danny and his father turned quickly to face Stiles who was standing there with a nervous grin on his face. He looked so out of place and uncomfortable and Danny felt horrible; he shouldn't have gotten upset, shouldn't have pushed his father like that. Not in front of Stiles. But whatever it was he'd just done, it had worked. His mother quickly chimed in, saying that they should all sit and eat before the food got cold, but no one moved until Danny's father went to take a seat. Danny watched him carefully, waiting until he sat down to pick a seat. His mother was about to take the seat across from him, but Danny quickly pushed Stiles towards the chair. If she'd sat there, it meant that either he or Stiles was going to have to sit next to his father, and as much as Danny didn't want to wish that on his mother, he couldn't do that to Stiles. Because there was no way in hell Danny was sitting anywhere near that man. Danny took the seat next to Stiles, across from his mother.

"Breakfast smells great, Mrs. Mahealani," Stiles said cheerily.

"Yeah, mom," Danny smiled weakly, "Thanks."

She smiled brightly, and Danny felt a pang of guilt in his stomach; he had to remember to start thanking her more. It was funny how easy it was to start taking things for granted. His father was the first to dig into the food, helping himself to whatever he wanted, as much as he wanted. The others followed suit. Danny limited his portions, keeping them small; he was already having a hard enough time keeping anything down.

"This is delicious," Stiles said with a mouth full of bacon.

Danny rolled his eyes but smiled weakly. It was just so _Stiles_ \- and for the first time in his life, he was actually thankful to have him around. Maybe, just maybe, his being there would be enough to keep some of the tension at bay. But then Danny noticed his father staring, looking back and forth between the two of them and he could see the wheels turning. There was something going on inside his father's head, and he could tell it wasn't good.

"Where you ever planning on introducing your friend to me, Daniel?"

Danny winced, but shook his head apologetically, "I'm sorry, I forgot..."

"I'm Stiles Stilinski, sir," Stiles chimed in, "Danny and I play lacrosse together."

"Lacrosse? You play lacrosse?"

Stiles looked a little hurt, but he smiled and nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Really? It's just that you don't look like you -"

"He's a great lacrosse player, dad," Danny cut him off.

"Says the kid who's only job is to stand there and make it look like he's doing something."

Danny pursed his lips, forcing himself to choke down the insult. It burned the whole way down. Staring down at his plate, he pushed around his food with his fork, listening to his mother ramble on about the last game she'd seen, talking about all the amazing plays in some attempt to turn the conversation into something positive. Every now and then, Stiles would add something or describe one of the plays in more detail and his father would just grunt in response.

"So what happens after the game?"

Stiles and Danny both looked up, "What?"

"After the game. In the locker room. What happens?"

"Dad..." Danny pleaded - wishing, hoping, praying that he wasn't going where Danny thought he was.

His father looked over at Stiles, pointing towards Danny, "Do you know about my son? Do you know what he is?"

"Yeah, I do," he looked frustrated, even a little angry, "Everyone does. And no one cares."

"So it doesn't bother you at all? Changing before and after practice, and after every game knowing there's a _homosexual_ not three feet away?"

"Not at all."

His father was quiet for a while after that, but no one touched their food. The silence was heavy, weighing down on Danny; he felt dizzy and more than a little sick. He just wanted to crawl in a hole and never come out. Never seeing the light of day and cutting off all human contact sounded so much better than than spending another minute here. He was shaking, leg bouncing nervously, earning a concerned look from Stiles; his father noticed.

"So, Stiles -"

Danny braced himself; this wasn't going to be pretty.

"- how long have you been sleeping with my son?"

That was it - the last straw. Danny slammed his fists down against the table, barely catching his mother jump out of her skin out of the corner of his eye. His blood was rushing, his head was spinning, and he sure as hell wasn't thinking clearly. Not anymore. Not after that.

"That's enough!" he shot his father a nasty look, "What the hell is your _problem_?"

"My problem? My _son_ is -"

"Michael -" his mother tried to cut in, but stopped when his father gave her a warning glance.

"Stay out of this!" he snapped, "God, you're so fucking stupid!"

Danny watched as his mother flinched, sitting back in her chair with her hands in her lap, staring blankly at her plate. Anger was building up inside of him, fists clenched so tight his knuckles were sore - but he took a deep breath and kept his cool. It wasn't fair to Stiles; he shouldn't have to see this.

"That's enough," he said flatly, making sure to keep his voice calm and steady.

"What the hell did you just say to me?"

"I said that's enough!" Danny couldn't hold it back any longer; slamming his fists down on the table, he glared over at his father, "Just shut up!"

He wasn't sure who looked more surprised - his father, his mother or Stiles. It was more than a little embarrassing. Now Stiles was going to come into school on Monday and tell everyone about his temper and how it was something he clearly had inherited from his far from charming father. Taking a deep breath, he prayed his cheeks didn't look anywhere near as red as he felt, because he was burning up. Clearing his throat, Danny stared down at his hands before standing up an turning to Stiles.

"Come on, I'll walk you out."

Danny barely waited for Stiles to stand before making his way down the hall, only half-listening as Stiles hastily thanked his mother for breakfast. Quick footsteps soon followed as he tried to catch up, but Danny never slowed. Once outside, Danny nearly collapsed onto the front steps, ready to watch Stiles flee to his jeep and speed away. But he didn't leave. He didn't do anything - just stood there for a few moments, staring out at nothing before taking a deep breath and taking a seat next to him.

They were both silent for a while, trying to ignore the screaming match that was taking place inside. Something broke. It sounded like a plate; he wasn't really sure. He didn't really care, either. Listening to the two of them fighting, the sound of things breaking... It made him sick to his stomach at the realization of how comfortable it made him, reminded him of his childhood, of how he would fall asleep to this almost every night. A sick, twisted lullaby.

"I'm sorry," Danny said softly, finally breaking the silence; there wasn't much else to say.

Stiles just shook his head an offered a smile, "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

Silence. The two of them sat side by side, watching the cars go by. It wasn't long until the front door was thrown open and slammed shut. His father pushed past them like they weren't even there, getting into his rental car and speeding off without so much as a goodbye to his son. They could hear his mother inside crying, and Danny took that as his cue.

"I should probably go back in," he said with a sigh, not moving.

"Yeah, I should go, too," Stiles stood up, "Allison's out of town for the weekend, so I might actually be able to get Scott to go do something."

Danny nodded, "Okay... I'll see you Monday."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson thinks there's more going on between Danny and Stiles than his friend is letting on.

Monday came faster than he'd expected, and he walked through the front doors of the school a bundle of nerves. He half expected the whole school to be buzzing about what had happened Saturday morning. Stiles meant well, but he had an unfortunate inability to keep his mouth shut and his nose out of places he didn't belong. So Danny wouldn't have been surprised at all if all of his peers were completely informed of his current living situation - but no one seemed to be paying him any mind. That was a good sign.

The morning passed without incident. He was awake and alert and actually paid attention in class, even took decent, legible notes. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad day after all.

"Hello - Earth to Danny!"

It was lunch time and he had apparently zoned out after having lost his appetite. He wasn't quite sure what was on his plate, but it certainly wasn't macaroni and cheese.

"I said are you coming?" Lydia asked for what was apparently the second time.

"Coming to what?"

The redhead rolled her eyes, clearly not at all amused by his spacey attitude, "My party. This Friday. My parents are going out of town."

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

"Don't sound so excited," Jackson teased, giving him a gentle shove, "What's with you? You've been out of it for like, a week."

"Nothing. Just tired, I guess," Danny shrugged.

That was nowhere near enough to satisfy Jackson - and Danny knew it - but it would be enough to keep him from prying. For now, at least. Instead, he turned to Lydia and started to discuss party plans. Tuning them out, Danny tried to focus on finding some smidgen of courage, enough to even get him to try just one tiny little bite of the food that was in front of him, but just the thought of it was enough to make his stomach twist into knots. He pushed his tray away, looking up just in time to see Stiles passing by. Stiles paused, and for a moment their eyes met, both debating whether or not they should even say hello. Thinking better of it, Stiles quickly turned away and hurried after Scott and Allison.

"No..."

Danny turned towards his best friend, looking more than a little confused, "What?"

"No. Tell me you didn't..." There was a mild look of disgust mixed with a bit of panic on Jackson's face.

"Didn't do what?"

Jackson leaned in, lowering his voice and whispering harshly, "Did you hook up with Stilinski?"

"What?" Danny cried, a little louder than he'd intended, earning a lot of unwanted attention; he waited until everyone went back to their own business before speaking up again, quieter this time, "I did not hook up with Stiles."

Jackson gave him a questioning look, only half believing him, "Well, something happened. So yeah - spill."

"Nothing. He came over on Saturday to lend me his Chemistry notes."

"Chemistry notes?"

"Chemistry notes."

"That's it?"

"Yes. That's it."

"And you're sure that no touching, kissing, and or sex was involved?"

Danny rolled his eyes, "I'm sure, and you need to stop."

"But -"

"Jackson," he cut him off, "I wouldn't hook up with Stiles Stilinski if someone paid me to do it. We didn't do anything."

Lydia looked back and forth between the two of them before getting up and grabbing her things.

"Where are you going?" Jackson called after her.

"To talk to Stiles," she stated simply.

He felt like slamming his face against the table. So he had Stiles had almost said hello to each other - so what? It wasn't a big deal, and it certainly didn't mean that they had hooked up. No, Danny had never been attracted to Stiles. At least, he didn't think so. No, he definitely hadn't and never would. Stiles was a thorn in his side, a persistent pain in the ass - someone he (barely) tolerated and nothing more.

"You guys are crazy," he muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"At least I'm not the one crushing on Stilinksi."

As much as he wanted to argue, he kept his mouth shut, fighting back the eye roll and biting his tongue. It wasn't worth the fight. The bell rang and they went their separate ways, and he was glad to be free of the assumptions and prying. But he knew it wouldn't last long. As soon as the end of the day came and they hit the field for practice, it would start all over again. It was going to be a very long week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I was going to try and stay away from filler chapters and fluff, and I feel like this is mostly just fluff. But I knew I had to try and work in the whole Jackson/Danny dynamic sooner or later (especially since their friendship is the only thing about Jackson I actually like) so I felt this chapter was somewhat necessary. It's also a pretty good way to set up future meddling/drama. Lydia is definitely going to meddle, that much I will say.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get out of hand at Lydia's party.

"You were great tonight Mijo," his mother said gently, pressing a kiss against his forehead.

"Thanks mom."

"It was a close game, I was nervous for a while. The other team's goalie was almost as good as you. Almost."

Danny shrugged, "I'm not that great."

"You are the best my love. Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll just eat something when I get to Lydia's."

"Okay, drive safe. I love you - I'll call you tomorrow night."

"Alright. Love you, too."

The week had passed by faster than he'd expected. Jackson had left the whole Stiles thing alone for the most part - if only because Danny had gone completely out of his way to avoid and ignore Stiles more than usual.

He really didn't feel like going to the party. After last weekend, all he wanted to do was stay home and relax. But he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he didn't at least show up. Parking his car a ways down the road - so he could just get the hell out of there as fast as possible later on - he was glad to see that not many people were there just yet. That and Stiles' jeep was nowhere to be seen. As he walked towards the house, he was running his game plan over and over again in his mind: _get in, say hello, grab a bite to eat, leave_. It was a short and simple plan and he was sticking to it.

Letting himself in, Lydia greeted him, immediately pulling him into the living room where a small group of people had already gathered. She looked great. She always looked great. So did Jackson. They both seemed to have flawless genes; no physical imperfections whatsoever. Physically they were perfect. Personality-wise? That was debatable. But he loved them both all the same.

He lingered for a little bit while everyone chatted casually about the game, throwing in his two cents here and there. It was obvious they were just waiting for a bigger crowd, anxious to break out the alcohol and turn up the music and turn this into more than just a casual get together. Because this was very intimate and small and quiet, and honestly a little bit more stressful than what Danny was willing to deal with at the moment. Soon, more people started to arrive, filtering in in packs. Someone turned up the stereo, just low enough so people could talk without having to shout, and people seemed to be pulling drinks from out of nowhere. There was more alcohol floating around than he would ever know what to do with, and he politely shook his head whenever he was offered anything. He wasn't going to drink that night. All he wanted to do was get home, and he knew better than to start if he was planning on leaving soon.

"The goalie from the other team is here."

Danny jumped, surprised by the sudden voice in his ear, "Jesus Lydia, you scared me."

"He's Maggie's cousin, she says he's bi," she continued, ignoring his comment, "You should go talk to him. He says he wants to meet you."

His cell phone started buzzing away in his back pocket, and he pulled it out and frowned at the caller i.d., "Maybe later... I have to take this."

"Is it Stiles?" she asked, sounding a little too excited.

"No," Danny shook his head, "But honestly, I'd rather talk to him right now... Hello?"

Danny made his way outside where there wasn't as much noise. Maybe he should have just let it go to voice mail. There was a lot of yelling in the background and he was already regretting answering the phone.

"Dad? Are you there?"

"Shut up."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me! I said shut up!"

"Listen, you called me - so what the hell do you want?"

"I said shut up! Don't you ever fucking listen? God damn it... you're so fucking worthless, just like your mother."

"Dad-"

"Do you like being a disappointment? Do you enjoy letting me down in every way you possibly can? A goalie for Christ's sake... And my son - _my son_ \- is a - a... You're pathetic. A pathetic little piece of shit."

He was drunk. Danny could hear it in his voice, could practically smell it on his breath through the phone. His father was an angry man as it was, but when alcohol was involved things got even uglier.

"You're a waste of space, kid. So just do the world a favor and -"

Quickly hanging up, he fought the urge to throw the phone as hard and as far away as he could. Danny took a few deep breaths, tried to steady himself, but despite his best efforts he started to cry. There wasn't any violent, ugly sobbing - no loud, pathetic cries. Just a few silent tears. His father wasn't worth a break down. But it hurt. It would always hurt.

"Are you okay?"

Wiping at his eyes, Danny refused to look up, "I'm fine."

"You don't look okay."

"Stiles - please," Danny pleaded, "Just leave me alone."

Stiles lingered for a moment before heading inside. Once he was gone, Danny set about collecting himself before making his way back into the house. It was the last place he wanted to be, but he couldn't just disappear. Not before saying goodbye to Jackson and Lydia - or else he'd be getting drunk phone calls all night, the two of them leaving slurred messages wondering where he was. As soon as he set foot in the house, Lydia was on his case. He wasn't in the mood.

"You should totally go talk to Dean - that's Maggie's cousin. Or Stiles. He was just asking about you. I think -"

"I need a drink," he muttered, hurrying off towards the kitchen.

He fixed himself a drink and downed it in seconds. Then he did the same with another. And another. By the time he grabbed a bottle of beer, he was feeling far more sociable and stable and calm than he was before. He spent what felt like hours dancing and drinking and having a good time; he even decided to talk to that Dean kid for a while. Nice guy, cute, but not really his type. Still, it wouldn't kill him to have a little fun, maybe even give the guy a chance. Taking a rather long sip of his beer, he realized he'd lost count of how many drinks he'd had three drinks ago, but by that point he really didn't plan on slowing down.

"I'll be right back," he slurred, getting up from Dean's lap where he'd spent the last ten minutes sitting, "I need a drink."

The walk to the kitchen seemed to stretch on for miles. Stumbling through the doorway, he probably would have fallen if an arm hadn't reached out and steadied him.

"Dude, are you feeling okay?"

"I feel fantastic," his words were thick with booze; Danny laughed, "That's such a fun word. _Fantastic_."

Stiles pursed his lips and nodded, "Yeah, you are most definitely not okay."

Laughing again, Danny reached for another beer, frowning when Stiles stopped him, "I need a drink. Lemme have it."

"Trust me, you've had enough. Come on, let's go. I'm taking you home."

There was some protest, but Danny was too drunk to argue or even know what was going on. Stiles carefully led him out of the party and helped him get into the jeep - but not before Danny threw up all over the ground, just barely missing Stiles.

After he was safely buckled and Stiles climbed into the driver's seat, he looked over at Danny and frowned, "I swear to god, if you puke on my baby I will kill you."

"Stiles, there aren't any babies in here."

Stiles paused, took a deep breath and decided not to comment; it would have been wasted on him in this state, anyways, "Listen - if you feel the need to up-heave all of the contents in your stomach, let me know and I'll pull over. Got it?"

They were both relatively quiet the whole ride, only pulling over once so Danny could throw up on the side of the road. Danny's house wasn't too far from Lydia's, so it was a quick drive. Getting Danny out of the jeep seemed to take more time than the drive over.

"C'mon Danny, help me out a bit," Stiles grunted, wrapping Danny's arm around his shoulder, "Those limbs attached to your hips? They're called legs. Use them."

At least Danny was (somewhat) level-headed enough to remember where they kept the spare key, seeing as he'd left his car keys along with everything else back at Lydia's. The house was quiet and still, and Stiles tried to keep Danny quiet. It wasn't working.

"Are you _trying_ to wake up your mom?"

"She's not here," he stumbled over the words, hardly able to keep his eyes open anymore, "She's on her way to D.C., gone all week."

"Okay cool, so are you all set? Do you need anything? A blanket, some water... a trash can?"

"He's right," Danny muttered, kicking off his shoes.

"Alright. So I'm going to go now..."

"He's right, I'm pathetic," he curled up on the couch, resting his head on the pillow as he closed his eyes, "Maybe I should do the world a favor..."

He was sound asleep before he could finish his thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Danny's dad is still a homophobic, abusive jackass. ** This is the longest chapter to date, I believe. Chapter nine is going to get typed and posted tomorrow, hopefully, and ten should be coming soon after.


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as he opened his eyes, his first reaction was to grab the trash can beside the couch. He knew it was there - he couldn't remember when or how it had gotten there, only that it was there. It felt like it was never ending, as soon as the sickness stopped it started back up again. And his head... it felt like someone was trying to split his skull in two. That was when he noticed the bottle of water and aspirin sitting on the coffee table. Untangling his feet from the blanket (which he was completely confused about) he grabbed the pills and chased them down with nearly the whole bottle of water.

There was a knock at the door and he winced, but stood up and answered it to find none other than Stiles.

"What do you want?" he groaned, still groggy.

"Morning sunshine," he said sarcastically, "Get dressed. We're getting your car."

"Go away. I'm going back to sleep."

"No you're not," Stiles pushed his way into the hose and ran up the stairs.

"Hey - _Stiles_!" Danny cried, wanting to chase after him but oh my god, his head was spinning.

Sitting down on the couch, Danny tried to block out the sound of Stiles' footsteps as he - no doubt purposefully - noisily made his way back downstairs. He tossed a clean shirt onto the couch.

"You look like shit."

"Thanks. You don't look so hot yourself," Danny spat back.

"Maybe because I was up half the night babysitting your drunk ass."

"What?"

"You were so gone, dude. What the hell got into you?"

"Nothing."

"I've never seen you drink that much."

"So does that mean I'm not allowed to?"

"No! You were just seriously out of it last night. You were so upset outside and then you were so beyond wasted it was ridiculous. Something happened."

"Nothing happened."

"Okay."

Danny changed, not really caring that Stiles was still in the room. It was no different than in the locker room at school. Stiles had seen him walk around in just his underwear; shirtless was no big deal. But he did notice how Stiles had looked away the entire time. Not necessarily turning away - just looking at everything around Danny instead of at him.

"Come on, let's get this over with," he said, quickly slipping on his shoes before heading towards the door.

Stiles was uncharacteristically quiet the entire ride, and Danny made no efforts to start a conversation. It was weird, being around him like this. He'd spent more time with Stiles these past few weeks than he had in years.

He pulled up in front of Lydia's house and parked the jeep so he could let Danny out. That was it - quick and painless. He wouldn't have to see Stiles again until Monday.

"Hey Danny?"

Danny paused and turned around, leaning in through the open window, "Yeah?"

"The only favor you owe to the world is to be yourself. Got it?"

Stiles put the car in drive and Danny stepped back, watching as he drove away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new student at Beacon Hills High School starts to shake things up - and not in a good way.

"I want answers. Come on, give me the whole story."

Danny closed his locker and headed toward the lunch room, Lydia hurrying after him. It was the umpteenth time that day that she or Jackson had tried to corner him and play 20 Questions: Stiles Edition.

"You left with Stiles - tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened."

"That's bull."

"I'm serious. He drove me home. That's it, end of story."

"You're so lying."

"Oh really?"

"You don't just leave a party with someone and do _nothing_ ," Lydia rolled her eyes, "And you said you wanted to talk to him."

"No, I said I would rather talk to him than my dad - he's the one who called me. And I'm not like you or Jackson or whoever else you party with on a regular basis. Just because I leave with someone doesn't mean I want to sleep with them. What if it had been Allison? Or Jackson? Would we even be having this conversation right now?"

Lydia pursed her lips, eyes growing distant the way they always did when she was upset and things weren't going her way, "No."

"Exactly. So now can we drop it?"

"I'm not dumb," she said softly.

"What?"

"You make me sound like I'm so naive. I'm not."

"And I'm not sleeping with Stiles. Assumptions suck, don't they?" he paused, not caring that Lydia was staring right past him like he wasn't even there, "So stop assuming."

Danny walked right past the cafeteria doors; he wasn't in the mood to deal with much of anything, let alone Jackson and Lydia. Not after last night. His father had called again. It had been late and Danny should have been asleep, but he had been up working on some homework last minute - because that's how he'd been operating since kindergarten. It had been worse than the phone call on Friday night, and when it was over Danny had found himself quite upset and afraid and very much alone. His mother was gone, waking up Jackson in the middle of the night was out of the question, and the only person who would actually understand probably didn't want to hear from him at all. It had been an odd sensation, wanting to talk to Stiles, and he honestly didn't know what to make of it.

As he made his way down the hall, he passed Jackson who looked a little confused but said nothing and Danny was relieved. He didn't want to have to explain that he was skipping out o lunch because he was trying to avoid the two of them. That wouldn't have gone over well at all. He wasn't sure where he was going to go, but anywhere else was better. So long as he could keep to himself and get some much needed peace and quiet, all would be well. After passing the library, he thought better of it and doubled back. Crowded or not, it would be moderately quiet and he could at least pretend like he was being productive.

The library was usually pretty crowded during the lunch periods - at least, it was busier than usual, because 'crowded' for the library was still pretty sparse. Still, it was almost impossible not to run into people during that time. Some of the quieter, loner types came to the library during their lunch block, preferring the company of books over people. Others were just trying to get in some last minute study sessions before a test. Whatever the reason, they all seemed pretty much incapable of cleaning up after themselves. The first and second lunch waves had already passed and it was already part-way through the third, and the place was in absolute disarray. Books were everywhere - scattered all over the tables, left on chairs, stacked up on the floor. The librarian looked like she was about ready to pull her hair out. She always looked like that, but right now Danny didn't really blame her.

"Do you need any help Mrs. Valby?"

She looked up at him, glasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose as usual, making him seriously doubt she even needed them at all. The woman couldn't have been any older than thirty-five, but she looked so tired and worn out that it was adding years onto her appearance very quickly. She did a lot for the school. She was the librarian, for one; ran the literary club; helped organize school functions and fundraisers; was a member of the PTO - and according to his mother, the only one who ever had anything worthwhile to say, and was always shot down; and not to mention, she was the only person in the building who knew how to properly operate the lights on stage in the auditorium, being a former theatre geek. Overachieving and under-appreciated. Danny couldn't help but wonder if it was the same way at home, because there was never a day where she didn't look beyond exhausted.

"Oh, Danny, hello. Um, well, I don't know... I finally convinced the office to let me have one of those student helpers, you know how you kids can sign up to help out in the offices during your free block, I'm sure you know. Anyways, the new boy, Elias. He signed up and they gave him to me. You can ask him if he wants any help cleaning up the books."

Biting his tongue, Danny nodded. He didn't want to, but he'd ask anyways. _Take the high road, Danny_. He was sure that's what his mother would have said right about now, he could hear her saying it in his head. And he knew it wouldn't go away until he did just that. So - even though he definitely didn't want to, and knew that it was going to suck - he decided to take the high road.

He was perfectly fine with keeping practice and games the only times he'd ever have to see Elias. Ever since he'd moved to town a few weeks ago and made the team, things had been a little tense. Well, things technically hadn't gotten tense until he and the rest of the team had explained to him their personal opinions on bullying and intolerance, and he had explained how he was out and that the team was cool with it. Elias had made it very clear that he wasn't a fan of Danny's sexuality, but so far he'd kept his mouth shut, instead making it known through immature and over-dramatic stunts such as showing up early to practice or waiting until Danny was out of the room to change. It didn't bother Danny too much. There were a lot of other guys on the team who had been a little uncomfortable around him when he'd first come out, but they'd gotten over it. Danny wasn't sure Elias ever would, but so far they'd managed to keep things simple. If only because - until now - they'd limited their encounters to just lacrosse.

"Hey," he said as cheerily as he could muster, "Want some help? Mrs. Valby said you might want some. This place is a mess."

"I've got it, I'm fine."

"You sure? We could get this place cleaned up fast if we-"

"I don't want your help."

Danny just nodded his head and started to walk away, not wanting to push it. He knew Elias' type - he knew it all too well. It didn't matter what he said, Elias would find some way to cause trouble. No, it was best to just keep his mouth shut and his head down and just... walk away. He knew from experience; he'd grown up with an Elias for a father.

"You looked like you were having a good time the other night," Elias called after him.

It seemed harmless enough - enough to make Danny bite; he stopped and turned around, "Yeah, sure. I guess."

"There's no ' _I guess_ '. You seemed pretty comfortable on Dean's lap, and the dancing - the two of you really seemed to be hitting it off," his tone was so condescending and nasty, and for some reason the fact that Elias never once looked up at him from the pile of books he was putting away really pissed him off, "He thought for sure he was going to score, you could see it all over his face. But god, I wish you could have seen his face when you left with _Stiles_."

Danny kept his mouth shut, not wanting to add any more fuel to this fire, especially since it looked like Elias was just getting started. All he had to do was just keep quiet and ride it out, let him say what he wanted to say and be done with it.

"In fact, you should have seen a lot of people's faces when you left with Stiles. And now I'm just saying what everyone was thinking - how desperate do you need to be?" Elias paused, finally looking over at him, "Stilinski could do so much better than _you_."

That was it - Danny couldn't keep quiet any more. It was like someone had flipped a switch; something inside of him just snapped, and before Danny even realized what he was doing or what was happening, he was inches from Elias, fists clenched and nostrils flaring. Blood was rushing hot and fast through his body and he knew there wasn't much that could hold him back now.

"What the hell is your problem?"

"You're my problem!"

"I'm the problem? What did I ever do to you?"

"You were born. Tell me Danny - are you as big a disappointment to your parents as you are to the rest of the world?"

"Shut up."

"Does mommy cry herself to sleep at night because her son is a freak? Does daddy look at all the other boys and wish they were his son?"

"Shut up!" Danny shouted; everyone was watching now.

"Get the hell out of my face," Elias sneered, shoving him.

Danny shoved right back, "Maybe when you stop being such a prick!"

What happened after that was all a huge blur, a swirl of rage and adrenaline and heat. He wasn't sure who threw the first punch, or how they had wound up on the floor. All he could remember was hitting his head on the way down. They were shouting. The crowd that had gathered around them was shouting. Teachers were shouting. It was all a mess of noise and colors and blood that ended in a chorus shouts, Coach Greenburg and a janitor ripping the two of them apart.

"Ignorant... asshole!" Danny shouted.

"Go to hell!" Elias spat back through gritted teeth.

Danny hardly fought while Coach dragged him down the hall to his office, Elias being dragged the opposite direction by both Mrs. Valby and the janitor to the principal's office. Once the door was shut, Coach practically shoved Danny into a chair.

"What the hell was that?"

Tossing him a box of tissues, Danny stared down at it confused before looking up at Coach, who was now leaning against his desk. He was still high from the adrenaline that he couldn't feel a thing; he was completely numb. Coach just pointed to the tissues and muttered something about cleaning himself up, and that was when Danny noticed the trail of blood on his shirt. Taking a tissue, he dabbed at his nose, somewhat surprised to see that it was bleeding, and he wondered how much of the blood on his clothes was his. The adrenaline was fading fast now, and he was beginning to feel sore. Dabbing at his nose again, he winced in pain - it was pretty sore, but he was sure it wasn't broken.

"Danny," his voice was gentler this time, "What happened?"

"I don't know."

"No - tell me you don't know. Don't give me that bullshit. I just stopped you from beating Morton's face in, so something happened, and right now you are in a deep, boiling vat of trouble. So help me help you and tell me what happened, and maybe I can keep you from getting suspended."

Danny took a deep breath, "He said things. About me, what I am. Asked if my dad wished he had a different son. Then he pushed me and I don't know.. I just snapped."

"So he said... ' _things_ ' and pushed you, and you decided to pummel him to death?"

"He started something because he doesn’t like that I'm gay."

"Oh."

"I don't like ignorant jerks."

"Neither do I. But you know what? Sometimes you need to just walk away. Take a deep breath and just walk away."

"I know."

"So why didn't you? I'm just trying to understand what the hell just happened out there. This isn't like you at all, Danny. You've been seriously whacked lately, it's honestly kind of freaky and I'm saying that because I'm worried. Is everything okay?"

Danny tossed the bloody tissues into the trash, "I've been hearing that a lot lately, don't worry about it. And I'm fine."

"I don't believe you. Not one bit. And I don't care if you tell me the truth and tell me what's going on in your life right now that's making you act this way - because honestly, I don't want to know, it's not my business - but you better find someone to talk to, and you better do it soon."

"Yeah, sure."

"Jesus, Danny - Danny look at me," he squatted down so that they were eye level, "I should be kicking you off the team right now for what I just saw. But I'm not. And I'm going to make damn sure that you're not going to go down because some asshole decided that today was going to be the day he was going to take you over the edge - but I cannot let you walk out of this room with that promise if I know that something like this is just going to happen again. Get some help, or turn in your jersey."

"Fine - okay! I'll talk to someone."

"Good. Now go home. I don't want to see your face until Wednesday. Got it? And go get yourself checked out. You look like shit."

Nodding, Danny stood up and made his way to the door, never once meeting Coach's gaze. There was a small crowd gathered in the hallway and they all stared as he passed by. He could hear them whispering, sure they there were already twenty different stories floating around as to what had happened - and he was even more positive that none of them would be even close to true. He could hear Jackson calling his name over the gossip, pushing his way through the crowd to try and catch up.

"Hey, what happened?" he said a little quieter once he'd caught up, "Holy shit - look at you!"

"Nothing. It was nothing."

"I'm going to kick his ass. That asshole doesn't know how many people he just pissed off."

"Jackson - don't. Just leave it alone."

"Are you serious? This guy just beat up my best friend -"

"And if you care about me, you'll leave it alone. Don't make it worse than it already is."

"So you want me to just do nothing."

"Sometimes you just need to walk away. I have to go. Greenburg told me to go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really just setting a lot of things up for future chapters. I have a better idea of where I want this whole fic to go, so from here on out everything should be a bit more focused.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny gets some unexpected visitors.

Lying in bed, wide awake, Danny came to a conclusion - an observation of sorts. It was a careful observation, one that had required lots of thought and reflection. And god knows he'd had plenty of time for that since he'd left school the day before. He hard hardly moved at all since he had walked through the front door and trudged up the stairs, deflated and dejected, towards his room. It wasn't that his bed was comfortable - it was, actually, quite comfortable but that was beside the point - that had kept him in bed for nearly twenty-four hours. He couldn't move. Everything hurt. His head, his arms, his legs, his back. Everything. He hadn't felt it the day before, hadn't realized just how far things had gone with his adrenaline still pumping and anger flowing so coarsely through his veins. But he felt it now - had felt it ever since he walked through the door. So he didn't move, didn't think about moving, didn't think about the fact that he hadn't eaten in what felt like an eternity, or that his mouth was almost completely dry. No, Danny kept his thoughts focused on other things. Like his careful observation. It honestly surprised him that he hadn't gotten to this point before; it had been there, right in front of him, for a long time. But it wasn't something he'd ever thought about before. Not like this. And now that he had, it was just so unbelievably clear.

He had an uneven ceiling.

How it had happened, he had no idea. But after staring up at it for hours on end, he finally started to notice the ridges, the bumps, the curves - how the ceiling on the left side of the room was slightly lower than the right, and how it pushed up - just a little - in the center where the light fixture used to be. That had broken a long time ago. An antique that had probably been worth more than the house itself. A fight had been the cause of the fixture's demise. But unlike the holes in the walls, or broken furniture, his parents hadn't replaced it, fixed it up like new. Instead his father had just simply... removed it, taking out the base and filling up the hole with cheap plaster, tossing the remnants of glass and silver and gold trim into the trash. It was like it had never existed, like some kind of sick joke dripping with irony. There was no light in his room after that. Not until after his father left. If there had been any real reason behind it, Danny had never been clued in. It simply just didn't happen. Just like his mother's dream of moving, of leaving this god awful place full of so many memories behind simply didn't happen - but in his family, not much ever did. So content to live in misery, watching as opportunities passed them by. They were comfortable this way.

As much as he longed to be somewhere else, for things to have worked out differently than they had, Danny wasn't sure he'd know how to handle a normal life. The thought of belonging to something whole, pure; his parents being carefree and in love; a home full of warmth and acceptance - it was almost too much to comprehend. It just wasn't his life, wasn't the way things were meant to be. His home was broken. His father had never been a father. The house was never a home. It was a prison, a rotting wooden structure that locked in all the pain and the tension that had been building up for years and years and years until it finally exploded. And now his father was gone and he and his mother were alone. Which meant that Danny, essentially, was alone. His mother started working more after his father left. They knew that, no matter what the court said, there weren't going to be any monthly payments, no support. He was gone and they were on their own. But in a way, they always had been. Always would. They were guarded, private people. Life had conditioned them to be that way. _He_ had conditioned them to be that way. No; a normal life had never been an option.

His thoughts slowly drifted back to the crooked ceiling and he couldn't help but smile that sad smile because it was so much like everything else in his life, giving the illusion perfection and stability and control - but it was flawed. So terribly, unappealingly flawed...

"Danny?"

The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, so sudden and unexpected that his heart nearly stopped. He sat up so fast it left him a little dizzy, but he forced himself to stand, struggling to find his footing as he steadily - but cautiously - entered the hallway. Pausing at the top of the stairs, he started to wonder if he'd just been imagining it. The house was quiet and cold and felt so terribly empty with his mother gone, and he was missing the sound of her voice, singing softly to herself as she cooked dinner or did the laundry. He missed the creaks and groans of the floorboards as she moved about, missed how the house was never silent when she was around. That had to be it. He was tired and hungry and lonely, and his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Danny? You home?"

He was sure he heard it that time - that voice. It was the sheriff. His mind wasn't playing tricks on him after all.

"Yeah," he called out softly, slowly coming down the stairs, suddenly very self-conscious.

The sheriff watched him with concerned eyes as he took each step. Danny knew he looked like hell. He hadn't looked in a mirror after the fight, but he knew. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he leaned up against the post, looking out over the sheriff's shoulder rather than directly at him.

"We’re going to eat. Want to join us?"

He was relieved that the sheriff said nothing about the bruises or the fact that he had yet to change out of his bloody t-shirt, or the fact that he looked like hell frozen over. It was that ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ nature (that he had no doubt adopted over time as a result of raising Stiles) that made Danny feel comfortable around him. There was no judgment, no forced conversation. There was plenty of small talk and jokes and peaceful, quiet lunches – and that was that. But even thought the man hadn’t said anything about today’s ordeal, the simple usage of the words ‘we’ and ‘us’ were enough of a hint that dinner would be anything but quiet.

“Oh, um, no thanks,” he let his gaze drop to the floor, knowing the sheriff knew exactly why he was saying no, “I’m really tired and I don’t really feel like going anywhere.”

Before Danny could say anything, the sheriff stepped out onto the front porch and called out to Stiles to get his attention. He had his nose buried in his phone and it took two more shouts to get him to look up. Motioning for him to come inside, the sheriff lingered for a moment before reentering the house. Stiles followed shortly after.

“What’s going on?” he asked before the door was even closed behind him, “Are we going? Because the pizza’s going to be ready in like… now.”

“Call and ask them to deliver it here. Danny doesn’t want to go out.”

“It’s fine, you really don’t have to. I just want to go to sleep anyways.”

But they weren’t listening. Stiles was already on the phone, gabbing away with some girl named Katie about the pizza and school and ended with a promise of ‘I’ll call you later’. His father looked at him inquisitively once he’d hung up, and he just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“Apparently freshman girls find me attractive.”

“So you’re going to call her tonight? Do you like this girl?”

“No, but I like pizza. Just got it for free.”

The sheriff rolled his eyes and Stiles just, well... he was beaming, so proud of himself for successfully charming a girl into giving him something he wanted. Danny had seen that look on Jackson’s face countless times, back when he’d finally grown into himself and his head wasn’t quite so big anymore and the baby fat was quickly melting away. That look of pride and accomplishment had faded over the years once he’d gotten used to all of the female attention, and in turn developed a rather large ego. But, for some reason, he knew that what had happened to Jackson would never happen to Stiles.

Soon after the phone call, the Stilinski’s quickly turned their attention back to Danny, and when Stiles’ eyes started navigating his disheveled body – from the bruises on his face to the scratches and cuts on his arms to the blood on his shirt – he started to feel a little uncomfortable. Excusing himself, he hurried upstairs to change and fix himself a bit. He shed his blood-stained shirt and tossed it in the trash, trying not to look at himself in the bathroom mirror as he washed some of the dried blood off of his face and chest. Looking up, he jumped, startled to see Stiles’ face in the mirror.

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered before spinning around to face him, “What the hell are you doing up here?”

“Are you okay?”

The question caught him off guard. Ever since the fight, all people had been asking him was what had happened. They just wanted to know the details. Who started it, if he kicked Elias’ ass, if he made him bleed. No one had taken the time to ask if he was okay. Or, at least, it hadn’t been in their initial question.

Danny paused for a moment, thinking about the cuts and bruises and the parts of him that were going to be sore for days. He wasn’t okay in that sense. But he knew, somehow, that wasn’t really what Stiles meant.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because from what I’ve been hearing, it was pretty bad. What he said, I mean.”

“I said I’m fine, Stiles.”

“Okay, okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

They were both quiet for a moment, and Danny took advantage of that, grabbing the clean t-shirt he’d found earlier and pulling it down over his head. He noticed how Stiles watched him the entire time and his mind instantly fell back on the other day – when he had been changing and Stiles had been looking at everything but him. Once he was fully clothed, Stiles licked his lips before clearing his throat.

“So are you ever going to tell anyone what the hell is going on with you lately? Because we’re not psychics. We can’t read your mind and just know what’s bothering you. Or maybe that’s the point… right? You don’t want anyone to know? I know you’re smart and you’re strong and I can’t even imagine the shit you’ve been through… but you don’t have to go through everything alone, Danny. There are a lot of people who are worried about you. People who really care about you. Jackson called me today – Jackson called me. And he was asking me all these questions, if I knew what happened today, if I knew where you were, if you were okay. It was weird. Really weird. And I wanted to tell him to screw off but I didn’t because he was just as freaked out about all of this as I was. Am. You’re losing it, Danny. You’re falling apart and I know you think you’re hiding it well but you’re not. And there are a lot of people who are really scared that you’re going to do something stupid, something you can’t fix. Jackson, Lydia, Scott, hell even Isaac – my dad… me. Especially me. So I’m sorry for lecturing you or chewing your ear off or whatever you want to call it, but someone needed to say it. We all just want to help. Let us.”

The doorbell rang and Stiles left without another word. Danny listened to the sound of his clumsy, soft footsteps as he hurried down the stairs, followed by the front door opening. It was a girl – probably Katie – and even though he couldn’t really hear what they were saying there was a lot of laughing. He made his way down the stairs, eyes immediately falling on Katie as soon as she was in his line of sight.

She was an average-looking girl, like a younger, plainer version of Jennifer what’s-her-name that Jackson was always ogling, stealing his mother’s magazines so he could stare at her all day. It was a little creepy, but he did the same thing every once in a while with Alex O’laughlin, so he really couldn’t judge. Katie was leaning up against the door frame, smiling and giggling and twirling her hair. She laughed, loud and exaggerated, every time Stiles cracked a joke - even if it wasn't funny. Every few moments, a car horn would beep, but she just ignored it.

“Hey,” Stiles said cheerily as soon as he noticed him, “Hungry? I am; it smells great.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, lacking any enthusiasm.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles turned back to Katie, whose posture had changed significantly. She was standing up straight, arms folded across her chest, and she looked very uncomfortable. Not that Danny cared; he just hoped she’d leave soon. He already had two uninvited guests. He didn’t need a third. Stiles held out the box of pizza and he took it, making his way towards the kitchen.

“I didn’t know this was his house,” Katie was bad at whispering.

“Not really seeing the big deal,” and neither was Stiles.

She paused for a moment, glancing at Danny before shrugging and turning on her heel, “I’ve gotta go, we have more pizzas to deliver.”

Stiles joined Danny in the kitchen. The sheriff had gone out back to make a phone call earlier and they could see him pacing back and forth in the yard. But Stiles didn’t seem to want to wait, already half-way through his first slice before he stepped outside, waving his pizza in the air. His father simply nodded, carrying on with his conversation.  
“Aren’t you going to have some?” Stiles asked, mouth full from a bite of his second slice.

He wasn’t all that hungry but he took one anyways. By the time he had managed to force himself to eat half a slice, Stiles was already on his third. When his cell phone started to ring, he set his pizza down with a groan.

“I have to take this. If my dad comes in, don’t let him eat more than one piece okay? He’s not even supposed to be eating stuff like this at all. And no soda. Got it?”

Danny caught a glimpse of his caller I.D. It simply read ‘Deaton’. He only vaguely recognized the name. It wasn’t anyone from school; that much he knew. He nodded, “Yeah, one piece, no soda. Got it.”

“Mind if I borrow your room?”

He was gone before Danny could really say anything, and he could hear his voice fading away as he made his way upstairs. It was very quiet with him gone and Danny wished he was still upstairs in his bed, undisturbed. Throwing the remainder of his slice in the trash, he paused for a moment before doing the same to Stiles’. There was plenty left if he wanted another slice. He just didn’t want it to be forgotten, left out until the morning.

The back door opened, and the sheriff looked pretty upset. The kind of upset look he got when someone did something stupid and he had to go and fix it. He could only imagine the number of times he’d given Stiles that look.

“I have to go. I probably won’t be home until really late, so can you make sure Stiles gets home? Tell him I’m sorry for running without saying goodbye. Where is he?”  
“Upstairs. He got a phone call.”

The sheriff nodded, “Tell him I said good night, and not to wait up for me.”

Opening the box, he grabbed two slices; Danny stopped him and took one, “Stiles said just one.”

He paused for a moment, trying to stare Danny down, but he gave up and walked away, muttering under his breath as he went. It was something about Stiles, but he didn’t catch much else. It didn’t matter and he really didn’t care. With the pizza back in the box, he waited until the front door shut before heading up to the second floor to find Stiles.

He was sitting in the hallway, back against the wall, glancing over at him briefly before quickly muttering, “Gotta go.”

Hanging up, he stood, shoving his phone into his pocket, “There’s no light in your room.”

“No. Well, there is. There’s a lamp by my bed. The one on the ceiling broke.”

Stiles nodded, clearly uninterested, shifting uncomfortably –something was bothering him, but Danny couldn’t quite tell what, “Sorry for bailing, I really had to take that.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, “And your dad left. He wants me to bring you home. He said goodnight and not to wait up for him.”

“It’s nothing bad, right? No one’s hurt?”

“He didn’t say.”

“And you didn’t ask?” he sounded a little offended.

“No, sorry – didn’t realize I was supposed to.”

“Right. Why would you? It’s not like it’s your dad that’s heading into a potentially dangerous situation. Why the hell should you care?”

The tone of his voice was biting and cold and Danny was so taken aback that he was hardly hurt by it. Just stunned. Even Stiles was a bit surprised by his own words and Danny watched as his face sank, losing color before turning a bright shade of red. Leaning up against the wall, Danny folded his arms across his chest, staring down at Stiles’ feet. His sneakers were dirty and worn and had probably seen better days. But there was something about them that was just so Stiles. He didn’t know what to say, and neither did Stiles. It was strange, having a moment like this with him. Every encounter he’d had with Stiles these past few days had been weird. Especially since he didn’t even like Stiles in the first place. Now, after everything that had happened, it was almost like they’d been friends their whole lives. Danny wasn’t sure if that realization meant he was okay with… whatever this relationship could be called, or if it was his mind’s way of telling him to run for the hills.

“He looked more annoyed than worried if that helps,” Danny said quietly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah. It’s probably just some stupid kids or something happened down at the precinct. He’ll be alright.”

Nodding, Danny pushed himself off the wall, “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

They were both quiet the entire ride; it seemed to be something of a pattern with them. Pulling into the driveway, Danny kept on staring straight, not wanting to move until he heard the car door shut. But the door didn’t open. He could feel him, Stiles – his eyes lingering on him.

“Danny…” it was more to get his attention than anything, but Danny said nothing.

A few moments later he tried again, “Danny.”

This time, he simply acknowledged him with a grunt, not wanting to look at him or talk to him – nothing. He just wanted Stiles out of his car, out of his life. For everything to just go back to normal. Stiles reached over and turned off the car, taking the keys as well.

“Jesus Christ, Danny, just look at me!”

He was surprised by the outburst, turning to look over at him, “What, Stiles? What the hell do you want?”

“I’m sorry, okay?” he sounded annoyed, but he took a deep breath and calmed himself down, “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“And I meant what I said earlier… about not having to do this alone.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Stiles.”

“Right… So my dad’s not getting home until late, probably, and I don’t want to wait up alone. Want to watch a movie?”

“Stiles, please. I just want to go home and go to bed.”

Stiles was silent for a moment, staring down at his lap before opening the door to the car, “Yeah, fine. Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter just kind of happened, I don't really know where it came from. And it also took me a really long time to start writing it. My apologies.


	12. Chapter 12

"Stiles seriously, this isn't funny - give me back my keys!"

As soon as he had sullenly agreed to go inside, he'd taken off, bolting towards the door with Danny's keys in hand. He hadn't wanted to stay but now he really didn't have much of a choice. It didn't take long for him to figure out that Stiles had probably planned all of this out before he even pulled into the Stilinski's driveway.

"Stiles?" he called out, surprisingly out of breath from the short run from the car up to the house, "Stiles!"

The door was slightly ajar and Danny cautiously stuck his head through. It was dark in the foyer and the rooms surrounding it. He could barely make out the doorway leading into the kitchen or the staircase straight ahead of him. As close as he was with the sheriff he had never actually been inside his home - so the lack of familiarity paired with the darkness made it a seem so uninviting and cold, not at all what he had imagined it to be. Walking into the house felt strange, like he was intruding, and he silently cursed Stiles for being so... Stiles. He wasn't sure where to go from there and his eyes were taking a long time to adjust to the pure darkness, so he fumbled along, feeling along the wall for a light switch.

"What are you doing?"

Stiles' voice seemed to come out of nowhere and Danny jumped, letting out a slight - and incredibly unmanly - yelp.

Stiles laughed, "Dude, chill out."

Somewhere, there was a click - a flip of a switch - and the lights flickered on. Danny felt like a fool for being so jumpy, but he'd been so wound up lately it really wasn't much of a surprise that even the slightest unexpected noise sent him over the edge.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Danny snapped.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? Last time I checked, I'm not the one gasping for air."

"Give me back my keys."

"Give me back my keys," Sties mimicked over-dramatically, sucking in deep harsh breaths after every word, "Jesus, you sound like you smoked an entire pack of cigarettes before you came running in here."

"I was fine until you scared the life out of me!"

"Bullshit. I could hear you breathing all the way in the other room."

"Just give me my keys."

"Oh, sorry. I lost them."

"You lost them?"

"Yep," and he gave a quick nod for emphasis.

"So you ran into the house, and some time within the thirty seconds from when I came in 'til you came out of fucking nowhere, you lost my keys..."

Stiles shrugged, "Yeah that sounds about right."

"Now you're the one who's full of shit," Danny scoffed, "What the hell did you do with them?"

"I don't know," he shrugged again, pausing for a moment before going in for the kill, "Maybe if you stay it will jog my memory."

"You're so annoying."

"Where you see obtuseness, I see cunning and genius."

"Stiles please, I just want to go home."

"To do what? Mope around? Come on, one movie isn't going to kill you."

He had a point. If Stiles surrendered his keys, Danny probably would have gone home and done exactly what he'd been doing all day - lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling. But it seemed a hell of a lot better than spending one more minute in this house alone with Stiles. He knew the other teen was harmless, and despite his odd ways of going about it he really was just trying to help, but it just didn't change the fact that Danny absolutely couldn't stand him. Or maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. He didn't like Stiles - not even a little - but he just couldn't seem to hate him like he used to. 

"With you? There's a possibility it might."

"Ouch," Stiles clutched his chest, feigning offense, "This way, grumpy."

And then he was gone, and Danny really had no choice but to follow. He stood back as Stiles flopped down onto the couch and kicked off his sneakers, resting his feet on the coffee table. With a heavy sight, he sat down as far away from Stiles as he possibly could, no doubt looking as annoyed and uninterested as he felt. At least he hoped so. He wanted Stiles to see just how much he was not enjoying this.

Stiles was the first one to break the silence, turning towards Danny and trying to catch his eye, "So what do you want to watch?"

"Silence of the Lambs."

"Wow, really? What about something more lighthearted like... P.S., I Love You?"

"Die Hard."

"Love, Actually."

"Kill Bill."

"A Streetcar Named Desire."

"One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."

"Clearly we are not on the same page," Stiles said with a frustrated sigh, "Were you speaking in movie titles?"

"Trying to, yes. _Clearly_ you're not getting the message," Danny paused for a moment, "Wait... were you?"

Stiles looked away quickly; Danny could have sworn he was blushing, "No, I wasn't."

Danny nodded, deciding to just let it go. Eventually they settled on the Hangover and Stiles popped it into the DVD player. It was one of those movies that Danny had seen a hundred times and it just wasn't funny anymore. But he paid attention anyways because it was easier to ignore the fact that Stiles kept looking at him every five seconds when he had something else to attract his attention. He even chuckled a few times, and each time Stiles would look at him and smile. Every now and then Stiles would go to the kitchen and get something to drink or a snack. Once he brought Danny a water but he hadn't touched it yet, so Stiles hadn't brought him anything else. But every time he left and returned again, Danny noticed the space between them on the already small couch was getting smaller and smaller.

The movie ended at about eleven and the sheriff was still MIA. Stiles had called once, just to check up on him, and all he got was a rushed promise that he'd be home soon and not to wait up. But Stiles didn't seem to be too keen on listening to that part. As the credits rolled up the screen, Stiles was already talking about watching another movie.

"Stiles, no. I need to go home. Where are my keys?"

"Come on, just one more movie!"

"No - Coach said I can go back tomorrow, and I'd like to get a semi-decent night's sleep for it."

"I'd wait another day if I were you, you look like shit."

"Whatever. Just give me my keys, I want to leave."

"Because you want to go home, or because you don't want to be around me?"

He started to respond, but decided it would be best to just keep his mouth shut. There really was no good way to answer that question, and no matter how he ran his answer over in his mind, it always made him sound like an asshole. And maybe he was. Maybe he was just a huge jackass and the whole nice guy persona he'd been putting out all these years was nothing more than an act. 

"Just one more movie. Please?"

Danny groaned and threw his head back, and Stiles took it as a sign of victory. Hopping up to his feet, he waked over to the cabinet full of DVD's and scoured through them, naming off titles at random. Danny passed on all of them.

"Okay, um... what about Robin Hood?"

"Men in Tights, Prince of Thieves or the one with Russel Crowe?"

Stiles looked impressed, "Marry me and we can watch all three."

Danny rolled his eyes, "Do you even own all three?"

"So you're not opposed to marriage, then?"

"Stiles!"

"Okay, okay - it's Prince of Thieves. My mom had a thing for Kevin Costner."

It figured that the one movie they could actually agree on was one of the longest movies Danny had ever seen. He enjoyed the movie and had seen it several times, but those times had always been on Friday nights when he couldn't be bothered to leave the house and he wanted to have some 'bonding' time with his mom. Not at 11:30 on a Tuesday night with Stiles.

"This is one of my favorite movies," Stiles said softly, about five minutes in when Robin and Azeem were escaping the Turks.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. He could remember Will Scarlett tripping Robin with the rope in the river, and vaguely remembered the fight between Robin and Little John that followed suit, but after that - nothing.

When he woke, his head was resting on Stiles' chest; Stiles' feet were carefully placed across Danny's lap, a hand resting gently on Danny's stomach. It was a rather precarious position to be waking up in, and Danny was very confused as to how they'd gotten themselves into it in the first place. Stiles stirred shortly after he woke when the sounds of footsteps came down the stairs. The sheriff walked into the room and paused for a moment, staring at them briefly before walking away.

Danny got up, untangling himself from Stiles, who stirred once more before falling back asleep. Walking into the kitchen, he simply shook his head when the sheriff offered him some coffee. They were silent, neither of them really knowing what to say - and Danny was relieved, because he didn't quite know what had happened, let alone how to explain it. But then the sheriff spoke and his heart sank down to his stomach.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Sir?" Danny was a little confused, but he still knew exactly where this conversation was going.

"What the hell is going on? Last week you couldn't even stand to hear my son's name, and today I walk in to find the two of you canoodling on the couch."

"I really wouldn't call it canoodling -"

"Then what, exactly, would you call it?" the sheriff interrupted, his voice a harsh whisper, "I like you, Danny - I really do. But this is my son we're talking about and I swear on my life if you -"

"What's going on in here?" Stiles said groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he far from gracefully made his way into the kitchen.

The sheriff gave Danny a stern look, "I was just asking Danny here why he let you wait up for me."

"And I was just telling your dad how you stole my keys and hid them so I couldn't leave," he shot right back.

Stiles paused, sucking in his bottom lip, looking back and forth between the two, "I'm going to go take a shower."

"Stiles... Stiles!" his father called after him, but it was already too late; he was already gone, and they listened to his footsteps hurrying up the stairs.

They both stood there for a long time, looking at everything and anything but each other, not really sure of what to do or say. The sheriff just sipped at his coffee, staring out at nothing like it was the most captivating thing he'd ever seen - and Danny let himself really take in the room. It looked like an old family home, a place where time stood still and not much had changed in years. The fridge, the furniture, everything looked as though it were stuck in the seventies. Old fashioned and outdated but they still got the job done so they stuck around. Not very surprising - sheriff Stilinski had never struck him as a guy who preferred form over function.

"They're in the Russian dolls... your keys."

Danny looked over at the sheriff, visibly confused, "What?"

"He used to take my keys all the time after his mother died. When they'd call late at night or early in the morning when something bad happened. He'd take my keys and he'd hide them, and then he'd fight with me about giving them back. It took me two years to figure out where he kept hiding them. When my wife was a child, her grandmother gave her a handmade Russian doll - the ones you open up and there's a smaller one inside. She lost the smallest one, but she still kept the rest all those years. So it's completely hollow. Perfect place to hide something."

The sheriff pointed towards the living room and Danny found the shelf where the Russian dolls were sitting. They'd been right in front of his face the entire time. He never would have thought to look there. But sure enough, when he opened up the dolls, sitting in the bottom of the third doll were his keys. After putting the dolls back in their place, he left without a word. He couldn't handle it - couldn't take spending one more minute in that house. He just wanted to go back to the way things were before, back when he knew nothing about Stiles or his past or anything even remotely personal about the Stilinski's. It was easier that way - made it easier to hate him without feeling any guilt. But now he knew things he never thought he'd know, understood Stiles better than he'd ever wanted to and things were changing. 

He didn't like change.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Danny go for a drive to a place that Danny wasn't expecting.

Danny wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but he just got in his car and drove. It was too late to head into school; nowhere in town he could go without someone he knew noticing him. He really didn’t want to go home and spend another day in bed. There weren’t a lot of options – or, at least, not many options he felt strongly about. But there was one thing he knew for sure. Sticking around the Stilinski’s was the furthest thing from an option. 

Auto-pilot took over Danny’s brain as he drove, and before he knew it he was passing by the all-too familiar houses that made up his neighborhood and soon after he was pulling into his driveway. Shutting off the engine, he sat there for a while, unsure if he wanted to go inside or not. It was too quiet in his house. He missed his mom. He missed the way the house never seemed cold or quiet or still when she was around. It always changed when she was gone, because a different place entirely. And the fact that she wouldn’t be home for another four days hit him harder than it should. He was seventeen – almost eighteen. This was supposed to be a good thing, something all teenagers wished would happen: a week home alone, no parents, no rules. But he wasn’t having fun. Not at all. He wanted his mom. He wanted her to hold him in her arms and kiss the top of his head and rub his back and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

He decided that he wasn’t quite ready to go inside and he rolled down the windows, leaned back and closed his eyes. It was quiet out here – but a different kind of quiet. A peaceful quiet. He let the breeze and the sounds of the birds and bugs and occasional hum of a passing car lull him to a place just beyond consciousness – a place in between reality and dreams. He wasn’t awake and he wasn’t sleeping but he didn’t care because it felt so good. For the first time in a long time he felt relaxed. He felt grounded and safe and in control, and he’d forgotten how much he’d missed this. And then it was gone just as quickly as it had come, a drumming sound filling his ears. He sat up with a start, looking over towards the passenger side window half expecting to see his mother standing there, home early from her conference and grinning from ear to ear.

“Go away, Stiles,” he said, swiping at the air for emphasis.

Stiles just tapped on the glass again in response, shaking his head.

“Stiles, go away!”

“Open up.”

“What do you want?”

“Just roll down the window!”  
“Stiles, what the hell do you want?”

Stiles just stepped away from the car, motioning with his head for Danny to follow. As much as he wanted to get away from Stiles and spend a Stilinski-free day, he took the bait. Unbuckling himself, he opened the car door and stepped out, turning to face Stiles who was about half-way down the driveway now. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and his gaze kept bouncing from Danny to the ground to the front door to the grass and back again. He couldn’t focus on anything for more than a few seconds and that was enough to make Danny a little curious; he seemed almost nervous, and he wanted to know why.

“What do you want?” he repeated.

“Come on, we’re doing something.”

“No.”

“Why not? Got something better to do?”

“Maybe.”

“Like what? Sitting around inside and moping all day?”

“Actually, I was going to take a nap.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles started backing down the driveway, “You coming or not?”

He looked back and forth between his house and Stiles’ jeep, seriously considering just running into the house and locking the door – but he knew Stiles would probably find some way to get in, or would just harass him relentlessly until Danny let him in. So – with a heavy sigh – he started towards the jeep, trying very hard to ignore the fact that Stiles was now grinning from ear to ear. They both climbed into the jeep and Stiles looked over at him for a moment before starting the jeep like he was half-expecting Danny to change his mind. And if he didn’t start driving soon it would become even more of a possibility. 

Almost as soon as they pulled away from Danny’s house, Stiles started drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove. He was staring straight ahead and his fingers never stopped moving, and he was biting down on is lip so hard it seemed impossible that he hadn’t broken the skin. It didn’t really make sense to Danny, but it was keeping him quiet so he really wasn’t about to fret over it. The silence was nice. Odd, seeing as it was Stiles he was driving with and that this was about the third or fourth time they’d gone on a silent drive together, but nice. Eventually his curiosity won out, though, and he turned to Stiles to ask –

“Where are we going?”

Stiles looked at him for a moment before quickly snapping his attention back to the road, “You’ll see.”

Rolling his eyes, Danny leaned back in the seat. He spent the rest of the drive staring out the passenger window, zoning out completely after about three minutes. When the jeep came to a stop and he no longer heard the humming of the engine, Danny turned to see that Stiles was already climbing out of the jeep so he did the same. Well, if there was one place in town to go when you weren’t going to school, this was definitely it. Not that they were skipping – he was sure the Sheriff had taken the time to call the school and inform them of their absences. But still, staying home from school and then going for a stroll through downtown was never a very smart idea.

“The reserve? This is the big surprise?”

Shrugging, Stiles smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets, “Got any better ideas?”

Danny shook his head, still holding onto the door of the jeep. For some reason, the thought of hiking through the reserve was enough to tire him out – just the thought of it. It was sad really, how just a few days of missed practices had affected him so much. He felt groggy and out of shape and wanted nothing more than to just go home and curl up in bed and pretend like all of this would just magically fix itself. But he knew it wouldn’t. Maybe this would be good for him. Some fresh air, a little exercise – it would help him clear his head. He watched Stiles start to back away, already a good fifteen feet away from him down the path.

“You coming or what?”

Closing the door, he hurried to catch up to Stiles (and pretended not to notice the fact that he slowed down so he could do so) and they started down the trail. Neither of them said much, just little quips of small talk about school and lacrosse, nothing too heavy or complex. Other than the sound of their footsteps and the occasional conversation, the woods were quiet. It was peaceful, serene, and Danny was rather enjoying the gentle chatter of the squirrels and the soft singing of the birds. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been to the reserve. It had to have been years ago when he and Jackson had really started to grow close – when they were both going through rough patches in their lives and struggling to accept themselves for who and what they really were. Back when Danny was finally coming to terms with the fact that he was gay and Jackson with his adoption, and they would sneak booze out of their parents’ liquor cabinets and ride their bikes out into the woods to drink and smoke pot and just… forget about everything for a while. It was a phase that Danny had eventually grown out of but one Jackson never seemed to be able to truly leave behind.

“You okay?”

“What?” Danny shook his head slightly, snapping out of his thoughts.

“You’ve just got that look on your face, you know? The one they get when something’s bothering them.”

“Nah, it’s nothing – just thinking.”

“About?”

“Jackson.”

It tumbled out a little too quickly and casually, something he caught as soon as he said it, watching as Stiles’ brow furrowed slightly, “… Oh.”

Danny shook his head, “No, it’s not like that, I promise. We used to come out here together a lot; I guess I just got a little reminiscent.”

Stiles nodded and they continued on, heading in the direction towards the bridge, and everything went back to normal. Normal given the current situation, anyway… But then it happened.

It was quick, fleeting – gone just as soon as it came. A slight brush of the hand, skin against skin; or he thought it was at least. Danny shrugged it off, telling himself that it was just the wind or an accident or that maybe he’d just imagined it. When it happened again he told himself the same thing, and tried to convince himself that the space between him and Stiles hadn’t narrowed – that it was the same as it had been since the beginning of the trail. And Stiles – he was unusually quiet and more jittery than usual. It seemed like nerves, but Danny chalked it up to lack of sleep or other circumstances outside of this moment in time that had him worried. They started to cross the bridge and Danny tried hard to focus his attention on the scenery and the sound of the running water.

And then it happened again, only this time Danny couldn’t explain it away.

Just like the last time, it was quick – but it lasted long enough for Danny to realize that it was most definitely not the wind. He wanted to pretend that it was just another accident, that it hadn’t happened on purpose, but he was having a hard time believing it. Once was chance. Twice was coincidence. But three times… 

“You alright? You got that look again…”

Danny tried not to look at him or meet his eye, still trying to process what had just happened, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just… got a little dizzy.”

Stiles nodded but Danny knew he didn’t believe him at all, “Okay. Want to stop for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Leaning up against the ledge of the bridge, Stiles made sure to keep his distance from Danny. The quiet was no longer peaceful. It was heave and awkward and so thick in the air that it made it hard to breathe, and it was really beginning to settle in just how strange this really was. Just last week he never would have given Stiles the time of day, and now there they were, together in a quiet, secluded place he hadn’t been to in years. It was just odd. Everything about it.

Stiles was the first to speak up, clasping his hands together and hanging them over the ledge, finally pulling his gaze away from the water long enough to look over at Danny. There was this look in his eyes, a quiet sort of sadness – a distant pain that he was probably trying so hard to push away. He’d never seen that look before and it made him feel almost… sorry.

“You gonna tell me what you were really thinking about?”

Danny let out a short, dull laugh and stared down at his own hands dangling freely over the ledge, “Are you going to tell me the real reason why you brought me here?”

Pushing himself away from the ledge, Stiles forced a smile, “We should probably head back. I’m getting kind of hungry.”

Danny simply nodded in response and started back down the path the way they came, Stiles trailing behind the entire way.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny's quiet night in turns into an unexpected heart to heart.

On the way home, Stiles turned on the radio, turning it up so loud that Danny could hardly hear himself think let alone try to start any sort of conversation. He vaguely recognized the song. It was something by Sound Garden, ‘Superunknown’ it sounded like. Danny wasn’t entirely sure. He only knew who Sound Garden was because Jackson had gone through a phase. It wasn’t really his thing. But he didn’t really have much musical taste in general. His dad never let him play music in the house, so he had always just kind of listened to whatever his friends were into growing up. Even now – he always went along with whatever Jackson or Lydia were listening to, and pretended he was into the loud, heavy crap some of the guys would play down in the locker room. Jackson had gotten him an ipod for his birthday last year hoping it would inspire him to start listening to more than just Spanish talk radio. But the only songs he had on it were the songs Jackson and Lydia had uploaded onto it for him. Mostly he just used it to satisfy his unhealthy desire to play Angry Birds and Candy Crush. But he didn’t tell Jackson that – if only because he was afraid he’d upload more of that techno crap he was always busting his ass to.

Stiles pulled up in front of Danny’s house and didn’t even bother to park the jeep. He just sat there, staring straight ahead, refusing to look over at him. With a slight nod – a confirmation that he was reading the message loud and clear – he unbuckled and hopped out of the jeep. But before shutting the door, he turned around and leaned back inside.

“Hey Stiles –“ he paused for a moment, not because he was waiting for Stiles’ attention, but because he was searching for the right words; there were a lot of things he wanted to say, but in the end all that would come out was a simple, “Thanks.”

Closing the door, he didn’t look back as he made his way up to the house, shutting and locking the front door behind him. He didn’t dare move or breathe until he heard Stiles jeep drive away – which took a lot longer than he expected, and he could just picture it: Stiles sitting there, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white, debating whether or not he should leave or stay. Because it was just so Stiles. They weren’t friends – not even after today – but he just couldn’t leave well enough alone. At least, that was how Danny chose to see it. In the back of his mind he knew that all Stiles wanted to do was help. But there was nothing to do, nothing to fix. There was nothing Stiles Stilinski could do that would help him feel alright again.

The first thing he did was head out to the back porch to call his mother. She picked up on the second ring and he could hear voices in the background. It sounded like she was at a conference of some sort, maybe a convention. Whatever it was, it was loud and more than likely important and she was pulling herself out of it all just to talk to him.

“¡Dios mío, mijo! Is everything okay? I’ve been trying to call you for days!”

She sounded worried and relieved and tired, and Danny felt bad for not talking to her sooner. But he hadn’t been in a mood to talk to anyone – especially not his mom.

“Sorry mom. I’ve been busy,” he lied; maybe if she thought he was having fun and behaving like a normal freaking teenager for once she wouldn’t be so worried.

“The Sheriff said you had a problem at school the other day. Que estaba preocupado, cariño. Why didn’t you answer my phone calls?”

Danny rubbed the side of his face and sighed, not at all sure how he was going to begin to explain everything that was going on, “I told you mom, I’ve been busy. But it’s okay. Everything’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Busy. You’ve been busy – busy doing what? Sleeping?”

“No, mamá –“

“Then what? Mijo, you’ve had me worried sick about you. Why haven’t you answered my calls?”

“I’ve been with Stiles.”

It was the truth. Partially. His mother was quiet for a long time and Danny could almost hear the wheels turning in her head because he knew how ridiculous it must have sounded. Lydia would have been believable. Jackson even more so – but Stiles. It was a name his mother was only just beginning to get used to hearing.

“… Stiles?”

“Yes, mom. You can even call his dad and ask him yourself.”

“No, mijo, I believe you. I’m just…”

“Surprised?”

“Happy. I’m happy to hear you’re making new friends.”

Danny nodded, even though he knew she couldn’t see. _Friends_. It was a weird word to use in relation to Stiles – because they weren’t friends. Though after everything that had happened the last few days, it was getting hard to describe him as anything else. He knew people wouldn’t believe him if he told them that he only went along with it all in the hopes that Stiles would eventually just leave him alone, that he didn’t actually enjoy himself. It was true. Mostly – because he had enjoyed himself at times. Only for slight, fleeting moments, but they happened. There really wasn’t any other way to describe it anymore. To the naked eye, he and Stiles were friends – even though Danny strongly disagreed. He still didn’t like Stiles, not enough to consider him a friend, but he would admit that he was starting to hate him slightly less. Just slightly.

After making up some excuse about catching up on homework, Danny said goodbye to his mother and hung up the phone with promises of a phone call later that night – promises he knew he’d break when he’d lay down on the couch to watch reruns of Futurama until he fell asleep. Opening up the fridge, he pulled out one of the meals his mom had prepared before her trip. It was uncooked and was probably no good, as it had been sitting there since Sunday, but he turned on the oven anyways and put it in because gross food was better than no food at all. He was hungry and didn’t feel like cooking, so he was fine with settling. 

Sitting down on the couch, he turned on the TV and decided to pass the time with some cartoons until the timer went off. Boomarang was showing some classic Scooby Doo episodes and he decided that was mindless enough – mindless, but a thousand times more tolerable than Adventure Time or Lego Ninjago and all those other ridiculous shows stations seemed to be popping out left and right these days. At some point, Danny felt his eyes grow heavy, around the time he’d decided that this show would make a good drinking game. Take a shot every time Velma says ‘Jenkies’. Before he could fight it, before he even really realized he was nodding off, he was asleep and not long after he started to dream.

It wasn’t a dream as much as it was an old memory, something that had been stirred up deep within his subconscious during the walk through the reservoir. He was young, maybe four or five, and walking hand in hand down the path with his father. It was sunny and warm – too warm for the jacket his mother insisted he wear. There were still flowers on the trees, and many plants were still budding. Danny looked up at his father and smiled, and his father smiled back. It was spring time and it was the first week of fishing season, and he was taking him out to the reservoir on his day off to teach him how to fish. It seemed kind of silly and almost pointless – because the stream that ran through the reservoir was hardly a hot spot for any kind of fish – but Danny didn’t know that. He didn’t need to know that. Because it didn’t matter. It was a nice day and he was spending time with his father, just the two of them. That was all that mattered.

They stood together on a rock on the bank of a stream, his father crouching down and holding onto him tight as Danny cast the line to keep him from falling in. He slipped at one point and his father caught him before he hit the water, but he’d hit his knee on a rock and scared himself something awful and started to cry, and his father just rubbed his back and kissed his forehead and told him that everything was going to be alright. His breath smelled like coffee and mouthwash and then an emotion hit him – hit his conscious self so hard it knocked the wind right out of him. Nostalgia.

He inhaled sharply and sat up with a start, the timer blaring in the background making it very hard to hear the incessant and repetitive chime of the doorbell. Sitting up, he rushed over to the door and unlocked it and hollered for them to come in without checking who it was. In hindsight, it was a very bad idea but he didn’t have much time to react. The timer was still going off, and had been for god only knows how long, and he knew he was damn lucky he’d woken up before the whole damn house burned down. In the kitchen, he shut off the timer and the oven, and threw open the oven door, half-expecting to be slapped in the face by a cloud of burnt smoked. But the top layer of the casserole was only slightly crisped, a few shades darker than he would have liked, but something he was relieved to see.

“Way to go, Bobby Flay. I see you’ve mastered the art of near misses.”

Danny rolled his eyes, “Please, Jackson, I’m not in the mood.”

“Sorry, bad time? Maybe I should leave and come back to check up on you the _next_ time you ignore me for three days.”

With a sigh, he pulled the dish out of the oven before turning to his friend, “I’m really not in the mood for this. Please.”

“What are you in the mood for, then? Because I’d really like to know, seeing as you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder for over a week now,” Jackson looked as unamused as Danny felt, and this definitely was not how he’d planned on spending his night.

“It’s been a rough few days and I –“

“Then tell me, Danny!” Jackson cut him off, “Just tell me, ‘Hey I’m having a bad day’ because that’s what best friends do. They talk to each other. They tell each other what’s going on. You don’t have to tell me everything. You don’t have to tell me anything! Just fucking talk to me. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Yeah… okay.”

“I’ve been calling for days. You had us all really worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

They were both silent for a few moments, but then Jackson smiled and gave him a slight shove, “You gonna invite me to stay for dinner or what?”

“God, you’re such an asshole,” Danny rolled his eyes but then he smiled, and for the first time in a long time it felt like things were normal again.

The two of them sat on the couch, eating crispy casserole and drinking beer and watching ‘Kiss the Girls’ because it was still their favorite movie. Jackson liked the action. Danny just liked listening to Morgan Freeman’s voice. But they hardly paid attention to the movie, spending more time talking over it than they did watching. They talked about school at first – lacrosse, mostly – and how Coach Greenburg had been hard on everybody since Danny left. Even his son, which took Danny by surprise because he’d never thought anyone could pick on Greenburg more than Finstock. But apparently it was possible. And then they talked about Elias, about how he was still on the team because his parents threatened to sue the school and launch a full investigation into the fight. As much as people seemed to be on Danny’s side, no one wanted it to get any messier than it had. So it seemed as though he’d just have to suck it up and deal with it. But it seemed like that might be a whole lot easier now that he was beginning to feel like himself again – which lead to the discussion Danny had been avoiding all along.

“What’s been up with you, lately? Like, something’s been bugging you and it kind of makes me feel like a shit friend for not knowing what it is.”

“My dad was in town. The weekend before the party. He didn’t even stay the whole day.”

“Oh…”

“And after the lacrosse game, at the party – he called.”

“What did he say?”

Danny paused for a moment, debating whether or not he should tell Jackson what his father had told him – or rather, what his father had told him to do, “He was drunk.”

That was all Jackson needed to hear; he nodded, staring down at the floor, “So nothing good?”

“Nothing good.”

They were silent again, staring blankly at the TV screen, neither of them particularly interested in paying attention at this point. Danny broke the silence first.

“Stiles was there, when my dad came over for breakfast,” he rubbed the side of his face and laughed, but it was more sad than cheerful, “And I think the Sheriff planned it. He knew my dad was coming, and he sent Stiles over thinking I needed to borrow his notes. My mom made him stay because she thought I invited him.”

“So… Stiles met your dad?” Danny nodded and Jackson laughed, “Wow. That couldn’t have ended well.”

“He handled it surprisingly well. Stiles did, I mean.”

“What happened? What did your dad say?”

Danny shrugged, “Nothing really. He was just being an asshole like he always is, and then he asked Stiles if we were sleeping together and that’s when I put my foot down. Then he threw a fit and that was the end of our lovely family breakfast.”

Jackson leaned back on the couch, lifting his feet up off of the floor and resting them in Danny’s lap, “Did Stiles say anything, like after?”

“Not really,” Danny shook his head, “But he won’t leave me alone now. He wants to try and fix me or something, I don’t really know.”

“Dude, just tell him to fuck off. Stilinski’s a pain in the ass enough as it is. I can’t imagine having him constantly shoving his nose in my business.”

“I’ve tried telling him to leave me alone, but it obviously hasn’t worked. But…. I don’t know, he means well. He’s worried, just like you were.”

“Yeah, but he’s not your friend.”

Danny shrugged again, gently tickling the bottom of Jackson’s feet until he moved, “Maybe he wants to be.”

Jackson rolled his eyes, “Alright, so Stiles wants to be your friend. I guess the question now is, do you want to be his?”

“He’s really not so bad.”

The other looked at him for a moment with wide eyes, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. But then he started laughing and threw a pillow at Danny’s head and made a stupid joke about being whipped. Danny threw the pillow back at him.

“Why don’t we give Lydia a call and then we’ll talk about who’s whipped.”

“Let’s not,” Jackson took one last sip of his beer before looking at his phone, “Shit, it’s late. I promised my dad I’d be home by nine. Oh well. You’re coming to school tomorrow, right?”

“I don’t know,” Danny shrugged, “I just might wait until Monday.”

“You know, the longer you wait the harder it’s going to be, right?”

He sighed, nudging his empty bowl with his foot, “Yeah, I know.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow. Right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, then. You’re going to need it.”

Danny didn’t bother walking Jackson to the door. He didn’t have to. It was just how their relationship worked. They came and went from each other’s houses as they pleased. Danny even had his own key to Jackson’s house. He’d gotten it made for him a few years back, before Danny’s father had moved out of the house and back to Hawaii. It was something of an end of the school year present, so Danny could hide out somewhere other than home over the summer while Jackson and his parents were out traveling the world. Jackson didn’t have a key to Danny’s house, but he almost always knew where to find the spare key, except today – his mom must have moved it before she left. Jackson said goodbye before shutting the door behind him, and not long after, Danny fell asleep to the credits from ‘Kiss the Girls’ rolling up the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter was very important and much needed for two reasons. One - I wanted to explore the relationship between Danny and his father and the way things were before their family fell apart. And two - a true scene between Danny and Jackson was necessary. I think that their friendship is incredibly honest and wholesome, and they're good for one another. They keep each other balanced and focus and Jackson really is Danny's rock as much as Danny is Jackson's. So I felt there should be a scene where they're both working to mend the slight rift Danny created over the past few weeks and just really getting back to where they were as friends. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fic. I've written short fics before, but I've never really published them in a place like this - so go easy on me! Any comments/constructive criticism would be much appreciated! Also, the first part of this fic was published on tumblr, but I doubt many people read it. Just a warning in case it seemed kind of familiar to anyone. It's been edited a lot, though. I was also listening to Edwin McCain when I started writing this, hence the title.


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